Lions Eat Lambs
by Raggdolly
Summary: A camping expedition goes awry when Bella's friends disappear. While searching for them, she stumbles upon the manor of Edward Cullen, unaware that she is about to become a pawn in his dangerous game - a game she can't afford to lose. AU/OOC/V
1. Prologue

*Disclaimer: I do not claim to own _Twilight_ or _The Most Dangerous Game_. No profit is being made from this fanfiction.*

* * *

**LIONS EAT LAMBS**

**Vv~~vV**

A camping expedition goes awry when Bella discovers her friends are missing after a hike.

While searching for them, she stumbles upon the manor of Edward Cullen, unaware that she is about to become a pawn in his dangerous game - a game she can't afford to lose.

. . .

**RATING:**

M

**GENRE:**

Suspense/Horror

**WARNINGS:**

Violence/Language/Dark Themes

(no rape!/no cutting!)

**ADDITIONAL:**

AU/OOC/V&H**  
**

**=x=**

_This fan fiction is based on the short-story, _The Most Dangerous Game_ by Richard Connell. It was one of his most popular short fictions of all time. It was first published on January 19__th__, 1924 in Collier's Weekly. If you have not had the privilege to read this piece of work, the synopsis is as follows:_

The main character, Rainsford, is a big time game hunter from New York, who falls off a yacht while in the Caribbean. He proceeds to swim to an isolated island where he meets General Zaroff, a Cossack hunter, and is then hunted by him as part of a game. Equipped with only a knife, clothes, and food, if Rainsford could outlast his hunter for three days he won his freedom.

_While _Lions Eat Lambs_ is based off this wonderful story, it does have its differences._

I hope you enjoy!

**. . .**

**=x= PROLOGUE =x=**

**. . .  
**

Smoke filled the small room as the three bodies within shifted continuously. Chief Jasper Hale sipped his hot, black coffee from his plain Styrofoam cup, then puffed his cigarette in anticipation. He sat across from a young woman, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. She wasn't beautiful but he figured that she would be on any other occasion. But now, she was as horrid as her ripped dress and soiled face. Her eyes were blood-shot with dark circles encompassing the space under her lids. Her hair was stained and matted with blood and dirt. Specks and streaks of the mix splayed across the skin of her hands, face, and neck. Her bottom lip trembled with chills and fear, as if she had seen an apparition from the grave.

Behind her, Detective Demetri paced the confines of the room, filling two corners one at a time over and over again while holding a Marlboro between his index and middle finger. It had been several minutes since he had inhaled and the cigarette was in desperate need of tapping. Chief Hale motioned for him to begin.

Demetri stepped to the table and reached around from behind the young woman and pressed the record button on the small device in front of her.

"Let's begin," Hale said. He took a long drag of his addiction and exhaled the smoke after allowing the fix to linger momentarily. He had quit smoking years ago but started up as a release after many people had disappeared from the city, never to be heard from again.

The woman let out a ragged breath. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Just start at the beginning. Your name and age would be good."

"My name is Bella Swan. I'm twenty-three years old."

Hale flicked the accumulated ashes into a glass tray that sat beside his notepad. "And why are you here?"

"Because I know what happened to the people that have gone missing."

He leaned forward a bit in his chair, his bare forearms grazing the table. "Is this a confession, Miss Swan?"

"No."

"Then, how do you know what happened to them?"

A tear rolled down her cheek as her filthy fingers fumbled together. "Because I was going to be one of them."


	2. The Start Of Something Horrifying

**C.1  
****The Start of Something Horrifying**

| . . . : . . . |

_(_FOUR DAYS PRIOR_)_

"I don't feel comfortable with you going is all I'm saying. People have turned up missing. You could get hurt," Charlie Swan explained to his daughter as she furiously gathered her belongings at the front door.

"I'll only be gone for a couple of days, Dad. I'll be with friends. It's no big deal," she said, nearly rolling her eyes, then folded her lightweight jacket over her forearm. She turned to face him in an attempt to encourage him with her raised brows and careful eyes.

"Yeah, the _with friends_ part is another thing that worries me. Isn't that Newton kid going to be there? I mean, he's a little odd."

"Dad, c'mon," she insisted, "have a little faith?"

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, a sign that he gave in. He mumbled his approval, which caused Bella to smile and cross the kitchen to give him a hug. It would be several days until she saw him again, and she knew he needed the reassurance that she would be okay. It wasn't the first time she had traveled to Helen to go camping, and this wouldn't be her last. She was aware of the reports that had been made over the past few months. Most of the cases were tourists who had separated from their parties in the woods while hiking. She was confident she and her friends would be fine. Charlie squeezed her affectionately and helped her tote her belongings to her old, red truck.

The first week of July made its appearance with humid air and temperatures that struck in the high eighties. It was sunny that afternoon, nearly cloudless, as Bella climbed into her clunker and started the engine. It sputtered to life. Charlie waved a hand in front of his face to clear the air around him.

"I think it's time to take it back in," he said.

"I'll ask Jake if he can take a look at it first thing on Monday."

"How is Jake, by the way? I haven't heard much from him after his father…"

"He's good," Bella cut him off, not wanting her dad to say it. The incident was too recent, and still too painful to bring up. "He's doing better."

Charlie nodded, despair still glimmering in his eyes. "Tell him I said hi."

"I will. I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Oh, Bells!" Charlie stepped forward quickly just as Bella was about to back away. The truck jerked as she pushed on the brake and turned quickly to look at him, his face riddled with emotion. He sighed. "I put an extra can of mace in your bag."

"Dad," Bella said in a tone reserved for when he was being over-protective.

"Just in case," he said and threw up his hands with a smile.

A faint chuckle escaped her lips. "Thanks. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"I know. You can handle yourself better than most of the guys at the department."

"Thanks to you," she said with a smile. "I'll see you."

Charlie waved her away and with her final good-bye in place, she rolled up her window, backed out of the driveway, and headed down the road toward Angela Webber's house. The cool air from the vent blasted in her face. It was the only thing that seemed to work properly but she still managed to love the vehicle unconditionally. She mentally checked off the items that were stowed in the bed for the second time as she pulled down Angela's street ten minutes after leaving her house.

She was the last one to arrive, which wasn't unusual for her. Before she could step foot out of the truck, Angela opened the door to her small brick home that was nestled in a cozy neighborhood in an area called Addison Heights, situated thirty minutes north of Atlanta. She shared the home with their friend, Jessica Stanley.

"Hey!" Angela called out and crossed the grass to Bella.

"Hey."

"We're taking my car, so you can stick your stuff in the back." Angela quickly diverted her route and made way to her large, silver SUV to open the back tailgate. She re-arranged other camping gear to make room for Bella's.

"Is everybody ready to go?" Bella asked as she loaded her sleeping bag and large, blue sack into the space that Angela had cleared for her.

"I think so. Jessica is in the bathroom. She's been in there ever since Mike and Eric got here," Angela smiled as Bella backed away from the car and they both pushed the tailgate down.

"That's not surprising."

"You know Jessica. Everything has to be perfect."

"We're going to be in the woods for two days. Is she going to put make-up on the entire time?"

"Not the entire time," Jessica said skipping towards them, unaffected by their conversation.

"Are you finally ready?" Bella asked as she pulled Jessica in for a hug.

"Yup! Ready to go get dirty! I can't believe I let you two talk me into this."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll teach you everything you need to know," Bella said.

"Sweet. Maybe I'll impress Mike with my new skills."

"I just want to get away from the house. It's like negative energy here with all those finals," Angela added.

Jessica nodded. "Total negative energy."

"I think a couple of days of fresh air is just what y'all need," Bella said with a grin.

The door to the house opened once again, and three young men emerged. Bella watched Jake follow behind Eric Yorkie and Mike Newton. She tried not to watch the way his arms swung by his side, seeming to flex purposely to draw her attention. When she looked up, her eyes caught with his and he smiled. For a brief moment, she saw the innocent eight year old boy that stole a kiss from her under the oak tree that stood tall behind her house. She could almost feel the peck on her lips—a temptation to send her spiraling into her memories of the Jake she wanted to remember.

He gently kicked the toe of Bella's shoe. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Not bad. You?"

He nodded. "Getting along okay, I guess."

She returned a few nods, knowing that the grief over his father's death was a difficult emotion to swallow after a few short weeks. He had made it clear to everyone that he didn't want to discuss it, so she never took it beyond asking how he was getting along. She changed the subject. "My dad told me to tell you hi, by the way."

"Tell him I said the same when you talk to him again. Are you going to ride with me?"

"I thought we were taking Angela's car?"

"Well, she's driving, too. But I have to work Sunday morning, so I'm going to need to drive back before y'all do." Jake seemed to regret this.

"I thought you got the weekend off?"

"Not entirely. My boss is a dick."

"That sucks." Bella frowned but sought the good of the situation. "At least you'll get to spend a night with me."

An eyebrow quirked at her statement and he flashed a grin. "Does this mean we're sharing a tent, Swan?"

"Unless you want to share one with the lovebirds," Bella said and eye-nodded towards the couples next to them who were too busy grabbing and making googley eyes towards their significant others to notice Bella and Jake's exchange. One glance was all it took to discern the situation.

"No way."

The corners of her mouth pushed into her cheeks, creating sight dimples. "Then I guess we're sharing a tent."

**=x=**

The windows to Jake's F150 were rolled down, the passing air disheveling Bella's once-neat hair and sending it into tangles waving violently around her face. The two hour ride to Helen went by quickly. If she had been riding with anybody else, she knew it would have been torturous, but Jake was different. He had always been different. He was the sun to her rain, always presenting her with a reason to smile even when she felt she couldn't.

Even now, the awkward boy she knew growing up could draw her laughter with one look. The only difference was how the years had changed his appearance. His once lanky arms turned hard and muscular when he started working on cars in high school; his skinny legs were now bulky from when he had volunteered his time to the fire department after they graduated. He had spent several years there while he was in college, claiming Charlie had been the one to inspire the notion. To Bella, it was as if he had grown even more since she had seen him last. She had to keep her hands from reaching out to stroke the contours of his bicep to test her theory. He made it easy by distracting her with the continuous mishaps of his roommate.

One story led to another and laughter was brought on with a series of old memories that often spawned an infamous inside joke or two. Sometimes they laughed until they were silent and other times tears emerged from the sharp pains in their sides. Jake wiped a joyful tear that lingered underneath his eye and glanced over at Bella, the tickle of the laugh still hanging on his chest. He smiled as she pushed her face closer to the rushing air and closed her eyes.

The sight of her tousled hair brought about a series of images from their most intimate moment. He had to catch himself before further thoughts could elicit his nerves. The curve of her lips and the arch of her neck when she threw her cares to the wind caused his smile to fade. Everything about her physical features made him reminiscence on that instance when they were not only friends, but lovers.

Bella turned back to him, catching his eyes. He lingered for only a moment before directing his attention back to the road. He could still feel her eyes upon him, and could see her from the corner of his eye. He glanced sideways a few times before giving in.

"What?" he asked with a slight chuckle teasing at his words.

"Nothing." She grinned and looked down into her lap, wondering if he ever thought about that night that they agreed to never speak of again.

**=x=**

Mike hated the designated camping areas. He hated being around other people he didn't know. The sites weren't well maintained, anyway. So, he drove them to an isolated area where they could _rough it_ but still be within throwing distance of civilization if needed. He assured his friends he had been up there several times as a kid and was positive they wouldn't get in trouble because the owners wouldn't find out, but politics of property didn't concern him. Simply, he didn't care.

He drove the SUV down a bumpy, unpaved path situated between the evergreens and stopped when he came to the familiar spot.

It was an ideal camp site: the ground was level, there was enough room between the trees to set up all the tents and it was away from the road. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought the area was created for the exact purpose of camping, especially with the stream nearby, but he knew it had been like that for as long as he could remember.

Nothing had changed since then.

"Did anybody else read about all those people disappearing up here?" Jessica asked as she attempted to fan out the thick material of the tent.

"That was further towards the town, Jess," Mike responded, pulling a Budweiser out of the cooler he insisted on bringing. The can hissed then popped open. He drank the beer quickly then flattened the aluminum cylinder on his forehead, letting out a howl of amusement.

Bella, helping Jessica with her tent, cringed. "Ouch."

"Frat parties," Angela suggested.

"Damn straight! Tech does 'em right!" Mike said, then popped another.

"Did 'em right, honey," Jessica corrected.

"Dude, save some for everybody else!" Eric laughed.

"No, this is mine. Y'all can go stick your faces in that stream down there," Mike joked and sat down on the lid. Jake walked over to him and pushed him off the cooler and into the dirt, then withdrew a beer from the ice.

"Okay, so maybe I'll share." Mike rose from the ground and brushed off his pants.

The party chuckled at the display and worked diligently on erecting the tents and building a fire before the sun set. Bella quietly instructed Jessica on how to stake the tent into the ground and how the poles were suppose to fit together. Before she was even half-way finished with teaching Jessica, Jake had already thrown up their plastic establishment and was gathering rocks and wood for the fire. He sorted through the sticks and arranged them in a pile over foliage then using the lighter from his pocket, lit a few pieces of dried bark and tossed it under the stack of wood which sat in the middle of the one-layer rock wall he built. Within minutes the flame grew, meeting the dark surroundings and emitting its warmth.

The orange and pink glow from the horizon soon turned to black. The call of the whippoorwill sounded through the forest and clashed with the echo of laughter from the group. They shared stories, assembled s'mores around the fire and drank until they could no longer see straight.

Less than a mile away, across the stream, over a large wall, and beyond a garden, sat a man. He was young, handsome, and considered himself a gentleman of fine things. His surroundings would tell of his conquests: his large estate, his silk clothing, the exotic furnishings, and the jewels on his hands. He was a man that prospered and delved into riches with riches, at least when he was alive.

He sat idle in the perimeter of his garden in his favorite chaise to admire the fall of night. The sway of the fruit trees and rush of the water from the large, marble fountains soothed him. The dreary song of the whippoorwill was his ideal companion for such nights.

Beside the young victor sat another man, who was as motionless as spotted prey. His eyes were trained over the garden and into the start of the weaving branches of the forest. The young man, calm, looked to him and said, "You never talk anymore." He paused. "I carry on and on, but you just…sit there. You've become a drag lately, Felix, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. What happened to our sessions? What happened to the laughs?"

The young man sighed and rested the back of his head on the lounge pillow. He pulled a handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit and blotted the red from his mouth before rising from the comfort of the chaise. He took up his black and silver cane and looked down at the man, then sighed, disappointed. Just as he took a step to walk away he heard the faint echo of a voice rising from the forest.

He quickly turned to face the direction of the woods. In that moment, forest life halted and the animals bordering the property became still. "Did you hear that, Felix?"

The fresh blood in his eyes scanned the outline of the trees, finding the precise orientation of the delivery. Laughter sounded again, and his lips stretched into a grin, unveiling sharp incisors.

"Trespassers," he whispered to himself with amusement.

He quickly retreated to the door of his manor, leaving the corpse of Felix to rot.


	3. Little Fish Big Fish

**C.2  
****Little Fish, Big Fish**

| . . . : . . . |

_(_THREE DAYS PRIOR_)_

Bella shivered from the crisp morning air and brought her knees to her chest as close as she could in the tight space of the zipped sleeping bag. Her eyes opened slowly to unveil her surroundings. Briefly, she forgot where she was or who was lying across the tent; the alcohol still causing her mind to haze. She blinked once, twice, and finally the reel of last night was coming back to her.

The s'mores and beer.

The warmth of the fire and the smell of burning wood lingered; the cool mountain air causing her to pull her jacket close and Jake closer.

The warmth of his body against hers as he vigorously rubbed his hands up and down the length of her arms, creating friction to keep her from shivering had weighed heavy on her thoughts at the time.

And when Jake helped her to the tent and into her bag, she recalled stroking his hair before moving away.

She was relieved that no embarrassing moments intruded her thoughts. Perhaps she didn't make a fool of herself like she usually did when she drank.

Across the sprawl of the camp other life stirred. Angela stepped out and stretched to the sky, spreading her fingers to the fullest extent as she renewed her body with the morning air. The fire which had kept them warm last night was all but a pile of smoking embers.

Bella emerged a few minutes later, pulling her jacket around her and stepping to the fire to inspect it.

"We're going to need more wood," she stated.

"Yeah, well, that's what the boys are for," Angela said.

Bella smirked and stood up from her squatting position, reining her hand back into her pocket from over the smoldering wood. "What are we going to do today?"

Angela was contemplative for a moment. There wasn't much to do in the middle of nowhere, unless they headed into town, but leaving and wandering far from the site would require them to pack up all their equipment. It was doubtful that anyone would head this far into the woods, and it was less likely they would run across their camp, but_ better safe than sorry_. That was her motto.

"I don't know," she said. "There isn't much _to do_."

"We didn't think this over really well, did we?" Bella said with a chuckle.

"That's okay. We'll find something. Maybe we can go hiking?"

"I'm down for a hike if everybody else is."

"Do you think the stuff will be okay?" Angela asked, voicing her recent worry.

"It should be okay. We're far enough off the road, and we'll be in the area."

An hour later, after gathering appropriate sized wood for the fire, Mike made cowboy coffee with the pot that he asked Jessica to pack. After allowing the grounds to settle to the bottom of the mug, it was drank with haste, which only left them wanting more, and left Mike asking what was for breakfast.

"Why don't you go catch us something?" Jessica joked sipping the last of her coffee around the grounds.

"I brought my gun," Mike shrugged.

Bella dropped her shoulders and shot him a look. "You brought your gun?"

"Yeah," Mike said with an obvious tone.

"Why?" Bella asked.

"You never know what's going to be out here. Who knows, we could see a nice buck or something."

Jacob laughed. "Where were you planning to put this buck? On Angie's hood?"

"Or your truck."

"Pft. Well, I'm going to be leaving shortly so you're shit outta luck."

Bella hung her head. "So soon, huh?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. I need to do some things when I get home then I have to work early tomorrow morning, so I need sleep. I didn't get a lot of it last night."

"I didn't snore did I?"

A chuckle escaped his lips. "No, you were pretty much out of it."

"That's good," she said and gave him a brief smile.

Hours after the conversation had taken place, Bella found Jake rolling up his sleeping back and packing his stuff away in his truck. She knew it wasn't his choice to leave, but she couldn't help but feel angry at the timing.

"Do you have to go now?" she asked as he placed the sleeping bag in the cab then shut the passenger door. Even she could hear the hurt looming behind her words.

"It's not like I want to go, Bella, but I have to."

"You do realize that you are making me, like, the fifth wheel, right?"

Jake smiled. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. But, when you get back I'll make it up to you."

"Oh? How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I don't know. I'll buy you dinner or something. Deal?"

Bella nodded once. "Deal."

She found herself engulfed in her best friend's arms. His shirt was traced with alcohol and earth, but underneath a familiar smell ringed around her head, yet it was nothing she could describe, but she wanted to remember it when he was gone.

She wound her arms to his back and squeezed him as hard as she could, and resisted the urge to beg him to stay.

Jake's last words to Bella before he drove off were his usual. "Be careful."

"I always am," she responded, then watched the back of his truck disappear into the trees.

**=x=**

"Dude! I think it's time to turn back! My feet are killing me and it's kinda hot," Eric said through strained breaths.

"Awe, c'mon, Eric," Bella pleaded.

He sat abruptly on the ground and allowed his head to sag. "No, I'm done, I think."

"We're almost there, man," Mike said, passing his worn friend.

"Where are we going again?" Jessica asked picking up a long stick and bringing it to the ground harshly to test the durability. She kept this one, not throwing it back like the others she had found.

"There is this place that I saw when I was little," Mike said pushing forward. "I want to see if it's still there."

"What kind of place?" Jessica asked.

"It was this huge brick wall and it went on forever."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "That doesn't sound exaggerated at all."

"Mike, that was what...? Like ten years ago?" Bella asked helping Eric off the forest floor. She didn't share Mike's enthusiasm. In fact, she was sure none of them did.

"Come on! We're almost there. I can feel it!"

They followed Mike relentlessly through the weaving maze of trees. After several more minutes of trudging, Mike ran to the object several yards in front of him which seemed to appear out of nowhere. Bella could see the top of the object as it extended mid-way into the trees, almost darkening the entire area from the sun's warm rays. It was a wall, a tall, never-ending wall.

The sight of it caused Mike to express himself with fits of excitement but as Bella stepped into the cool shadows cast by the brick monstrosity, another feeling came over her. There wasn't a word she could use to describe how uneasy she felt then, but it hit her hard and overwhelmed her completely. She drowned in dread and never resurfaced, even when she stepped away from the structure.

She stood in the sun, feet away from her beaming friends and searched for a reason why she had come to feel the way she did. No hint of it ever came to mind.

"What do you think it is?" Eric asked placing his hand on the bricks, like it was a new material he had never seen until now.

"It's a _wall_, Eric," Jessica said.

"I dunno, man. But it's been here for a long time. I don't remember it being so tall, though." Mike took a step back from it and looked to the top. "They must be pretty hard on about keeping stuff out."

"Or keeping stuff in," Angela suggested. "It could be a retaining wall."

"Guys, can we go? I'm not feeling so good. I think I need to lay down," Bella said holding onto her stomach for show.

"Yeah, we might as well. I'm getting hungry anyway," Mike said. He then produced his handgun from his backpack and wiggled his brow. "Maybe we'll find dinner on the way down."

Bella rolled her eyes and shook her head quickly. "I'm not eating anything you shoot, Mike."

"Why not?" he asked as they began to backtrack.

"One, because hunting season is over and it's illegal, and two, _your_ hunting is wrong," she came back.

"How is _my _hunting wrong?" Mike mused with a chuckle.

"I can see how a man of your superior intellect wouldn't understand the complex range of emotions that are spread vastly across species, but believe it or not, these animals you kill so cruely have feelings." Bella pushed branches out of her way as she stomped through the forest, anger teetering at her system. She knew Mike and his family for a long time and heard more stories of their inhumane hunting excursions than she cared to remember.

"Bella, animals don't have emotions, okay? They are mindless."

"They aren't mindless, Mike. They feel fear and pain just like you and me. It's a scientific fact! How would you feel if some animal snuck up and shot you?"

Mike scoffed. "That's stupid! Is the sun getting to your head? Get real, Bells. The world is made up of two classes, the hunters and the huntees. God made damn sure that we were _the hunters_. That's why we have the guns, and that's why the animals don't," he paused as he stepped over a large log lying in his path. "Besides, I don't see you not eating meat... you obviously don't care that much."

Bella turned around to face him, unable to contain her anger any longer. "My dad orders from a butcher that takes special care of the animals he slaughters. They don't suffer, like I'm sure your animals do when you send bullets into them. I've heard how accurate your aim is."

He purposely shot away from a fatal zone just to shoot the animal again once he was closer. She didn't know why he did this. Mike wasn't the smartest or most wonderful person she had ever known, that was obvious, and if it wasn't for him being Jessica's high school sweetheart, she would have been long rid of him by now.

Mike was amused at her spirit on the subject while everyone else kept their eyes to the ground and tried to ignore the awkward moment between the two of them as they stepped over the littered forest debris. It wasn't unusual for the two to disagree.

"Your argument is weak, Bells," he said nearly inches from her face, and then strode past her. "So, does this mean that you would never shoot an animal to stay alive?"

Bella thought about the scenario for a moment, playing the options in her head. Would she? Could she kill to survive? "I'm not sure I could bring myself to pull the trigger," she said and followed him back to camp, neither one of them broaching the subject further.

**=x=**

Once back at the safety of their tents, they debated on what to have for dinner. While Angela insisted on heating up canned goods over the fire, Mike had a different idea. He demanded Eric to follow him, claiming they'd be back shortly. While Angela and Jessica tinkered around with the fire, Bella claiming she still wasn't feeling well, crawled back into the confines of her tent and zipped it up once inside.

She lay on top of her sleeping bag and stared at the empty place that screamed at her from across the small space. She reached out and stroked the bare plastic where Jake had once been. If he were there, he would lay a warm hand on her stomach to stop the churning emotions; not that she needed him to dig her out of her stint, but he'd make the rigid uneasiness more bearable.

Sleep managed to weave its way into her body with his face on her mind.

Meanwhile, at the large stream that ran close to the site, Mike and Eric searched hard for the small fish carried by the current. Eric wasn't as enthusiastic as Mike was.

"Can't we just have some beans or something? I'm really tired of standing here," Eric said with his pants rolled over his knees and his bare feet sinking into the sand underneath him.

"No!" Mike said, bending over and swinging his hands in the water. "We are having fish! Then that bitch can eat her words when she's eating what we have caught." He wiped his forearm across his nose. "Inhumane my ass."

"Let it go. Pride is a dangerous thing, my friend." Regardless of his stance on the subject, Eric continued to eye the water for signs of movement other than the current.

"I don't care. We... are... having fish!" He clamped his hands together beneath the surface. "Damn! I thought I had that one."

"You realize that this is a stream, right? I think the only fish in here are the itty bitty ones that you would use to catch bigger fish." Eric gestured with his index finger and thumb, creating a barely-there space between the two.

"Then we're going to have fish sticks," Mike said.

"You're friend is right, you know?" An unfamiliar voice pierced into the conversation.

Mike and Eric stood and turned to find the owner of the voice. Their sights settled on a man sitting on a large rock nestled into the ground. His head was diverted to the water in front of him as he leaned down and allowed his fingers to graze the current.

"There are only small fish here. It's what I use to catch the larger ones all the time," the man said.

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Mike asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," the stranger said. "I didn't mean to frighten you." He kept his head down, angled away from them as he gently swished his finger about the surface.

"You didn't. I asked you where you came from."

"My house isn't far from here," he said. "As a matter of fact, you're on my land."

Eric's mouth told of his mistake as it shaped uniformly into an _O._ "We're sorry! We didn't know that we were on your property."

"It's quite alright. I enjoy company. As you can imagine, I don't see many people out here unless I wander into town."

"Ya know, it's rude to not yell that you're coming up behind someone." Mike thought about going for his gun on the side of the stream next to a bag he brought for the fresh catch.

The stranger seemed to smile at nothing, but it was guarded, careful. "I was here before you stepped foot in that stream. You just didn't see me."

"No, I would have seen someone sitting there," Mike insisted, feeling somewhat terrified of the man's presence now.

The stranger chuckled again. "I didn't say I was sitting _here_. I merely said that I was here and you didn't see me."

"Yeah, whatever," Mike said stepping to the bank, but ceased his movement when the man slid his bare feet into the water. His pant legs were folded carefully up his pale calves, and when he stood the water rolled around his newly planted limbs.

"Might I have your names?" he asked.

A shift pulsed through the air, and the man's new stance shocked Eric and caused him to take a few sharp breaths. He felt as if he had no choice but to introduce them since they were on his property. "I'm Eric, and this is Mike."

Mike turned to Eric quickly, wide-eyed with look of disgust. He seethed between his clenched teeth. "Eric!"

"Who are you?" Eric asked, barely giving his friend his attention.

The man raised his head and met their gaze. The sight caused them away, unsure of their proximity to him. "I'm Edward Cullen," he said, his ruddy irises overcome with black hunger.


	4. The Bloody Remains

**C.3  
****The Bloody Remains**

| . . . : . . . |

Bella's eyes fluttered open just as the sky began to streak orange across the horizon. She unzipped the entrance of the tent and stepped into the darkened forest. The fire had once again extinguished, sending its smoke into the air in feathery puffs of exhaustion.

She was alone. Unmistakably alone. The dying hiss of the burned wood was her only neighbor as she stepped carefully across the site to the other erected tents. The silence crushed against her as she searched for any sign of life other than her own.

"Guys?"

She spun around and shouted again. "Angie? Jessica? Where are you?"

Deafening, and esteemed with the tranquil silence came the repetitive sounds of nocturnal forest life. It was the same noises she heard the previous evening, only now they seemed louder – even dangerous. She called for them again and again; each time hoping to hear a voice call back to her, to break the ill waves of nature.

Her feet became cement as she thrashed her head in every direction. She had decided that any movement would take away from her listening for any footsteps trekking closer to her location.

Nothing came.

Two minutes passed which soon carried to four and she still stood alone, dumbfounded at the situation. Finally, it was fear which coerced her feet to move. She ran for her tent and rummaged for the flashlight in her bag. Without another thought, she quickly began to start the fire again. She threw the remaining wood on the hungry entity and convinced the flames to flicker high into the air.

She thought it would be easier to find her way back once she found the others. After all, she wasn't comfortable with these woods, and the fire would help her locate the camp site easier.

Bella paused and thought about the car a few yards away. She hadn't checked there, but once she did it was locked and empty. She remembered Angela taking the key with her when they left to go hiking. She saw her stuff it in her pocket.

"Guys? Is this a joke?" she shouted. "You're joking right? Ha ha! Joke's on Bella. You can come out now." A playful smile that she had sported for her declaration began to fade as she waited for a noise that didn't fit with the surroundings – the breaking of a tree branch, or the rustle of dead leaves. When the silence persevered, thoughts of a despairing nature fluttered through her conscience, unconceivable thoughts, thoughts which she dared not believe in. She would find them, she decided. She left the camp site a ghost of its previous self. The only life was the wild, crackling fire in its center.

She checked the stream, but found no one – only evidence they had been there. Mike's bag was abandoned on the bank. She called their names and turned every way to scour the trees for them.

Bella began to worry then, more than before. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Angela's number but the service didn't allow the call to connect; it didn't even ring. _Fucking mountains._ She tried Jessica and still nothing. She sifted through her contact list and dialed Eric and lastly, Mike. When both calls were unresponsive she stuffed her phone into her pocket and walked away from the place she knew they had been and into the unknown.

She continued to walk, calling their names and often repeating her attempts on the cell phone. The last light of day shifted over the horizon and darkness consumed her in the forest as if a dark blanket had been laid on the tree tops. It had become an eerie mass of vertical lines and woven branches, leaping for her when she passed. She searched through the thick, maze with her flashlight. Her breath began to stagger with exhaustion and she shivered from the emerging fear in her gut.

She paused in a thick clump and called into the velvet cloak around her, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Silence.

Her chest heaved and her throat leapt. Her stomach protested against the lack of nourishment and she felt a slight sting of guilt for wanting to go back to the safety of camp to wait and eat.

_What if they're in trouble?_ The prospect became constant and settled into her mind that they needed her help. She pushed forward even though fear tried to pull her back.

An hour later she had weaved a pattern and became so far away and turned around that she didn't know where she had gone. It became darker, even when she didn't think it could. The smells around her changed, as well. What was fresh became stale.

The hope she had been holding onto dwindled as the time had passed. Her throat was dry and she longed for a bottle of water. She chastised herself for not having the thought to bring any with her. But the reason within her was ready to comfort her criticism with the thought that she didn't know she would be gone for so long.

She delayed on one spot for a few minutes, deciding on what to do. Bella called again into the sputtering noises of the night and felt singed with discouragement. It was then she saw it.

A small glimmer of light caught her attention through the trees. Intrigued, she walked toward it. The closer she walked, the more the shape appeared around the light. Windows encased the amber glow within its walls. A large house stood against the backdrop of the night sky. The moon cast its glow on the tall rooftop and riddled lines and carved the top shape of the manor. Bella imagined in the day it would be a grand structure.

She nearly ran up the concrete of the drive which led to the house, feeling she might stumble with relief. Anyone who lived inside such a grand estate would surely have the kindness to allow her in for a few minutes. She imagined they would offer their phone and a glass of water, which would quench her insatiable thirst. A flicker of hope slightly settled the worry.

She caught her breath at the door before gripping the ring from the iron knocker and bringing it to the wood. She repeated the action several more times before the sound of locks clanked on the other side.

The entrance opened and yielded little light when a tall man appeared in the doorway. He looked as though he were confused by her appearance as he glanced behind and around her suspiciously. His light gray t-shirt and jeans were off-putting, almost as if he didn't belong in the house at all. His dark eyes, hiding behind long lashes, finally rested upon her.

"Hi," Bella swallowed. "I'm sorry to bother you but I got lost in the woods…"

The bulky man raised his hand for her to stop speaking and then motioned for her to come inside.

"Thank you," she muttered and folded her arms around her torso, stepping into the dimly-lit grand entrance.

He remained quiet as he took one more look around outside and then shut the door. The enormous entry echoed and vibrated the floor as it closed against the frame. The man said nothing as he signaled for her to follow him. His lack of words was strange. She had never known someone to not utter at least a _hello_ after being spoken to, least of all when inviting someone inside their house.

The manor was large. Its towering walls and ceilings, that would even petrify a height-bearing performer, were intimidating. Dust piled on every surface and Bella couldn't help but notice a spider web resting on an antique candle holder as she passed it.

"I was just curious if you had a phone I could use? My cell phone doesn't work out here."

The large man said nothing and continued to move forward, his large steps echoing as he walked. It mixed faintly with a new sound, one of sophistication and knowledge. It grew louder as they approached.

Bella could hear it plainly now. The melodic sound of a piano being voiced by trained fingers. The possessor came into view as they rounded a corner into an elegant study-like room. His eyes were careful upon the keys as he brought forth their harmonies and laid them in a warped, haunted melody. It sounded well-rehearsed, as if he played it a million times before. His hair was erratic like he had been pulling on it in frustration moments earlier. The dim amber light flicked hints of rubies in the crazed tendrils as he continued to play.

Bella stopped just inside the door when the man who led her there tapped on the wall with his knuckles to alert the man at the instrument of his presence. The music stopped and the disheveled player's head rose slightly. A curtain of lashes protected his gaze as he stood quickly then straightened his clothes.

"Good evening." He bowed, the angle modest.

Bella raised her brow at his greeting and threw her hand up. "Um, hi."

The player was quiet for a moment while he looked her over, observing her tense stance and how she placed her eyes around the room, almost as if she didn't want to look at him. "I'm sorry," he said and approached her with his hand extended, eyes trained to her wrist. "Where are my manners? I'm Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan," she said. She extended her hand as well and meant to shake it as a greeting but instead he brought it to his lips to place a chaste kiss on her knuckle. She shied away from his cool, gentle grasp. "I didn't mean to bother you. I tried to tell him that I only needed a phone. Mine doesn't work out here."

His lids folded, allowing a full view at the dark-red irises angled at her. She gasped, but tried to remain calm, not wanting to be rude. Her mother had always told her not to stare at other people's imperfections, so she looked away quickly. The reaction amused Edward but it didn't break his words or the calm expression fitted to his features.

"Telling him won't do much good. Emmett is deaf and mute," he said still holding onto her hand, suspended in mid-air. His finger slid to the delicate skin on the underside of her wrist, feeling the rush of blood underneath.

It took a moment before Bella could find her senses again. "I'm sorry," she said wholeheartedly. "I didn't know."

"There was no way for you to know. I assure you, it's quite alright." He offered her a careful smile, his eyes twinkling.

When he released her hand she hid it away behind her back.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked.

"I got lost in the woods. I was with my friends, but I don't know what's happened to them. That's why I need your phone. I think I need to call the Helen P.D.."

Edward's head tilted back slightly and his brow rose in realization. He whispered a declaration so faint that it was impossible for Bella to detect it. "I missed one."

He straightened his shoulders. "I'm afraid these local police aren't the most reliable at answering phone calls after six p.m.," he said.

Bella bit the skin of her lip and gnawed until it was painful. _I could always call Charlie. He'd know what to do, but what would he say? I told him not to worry. I told him everything would be fine._

"Perhaps," Edward started, interrupting her thought, "I could offer you something to ease your troubles? You must be hungry or thirsty?"

"I couldn't impose," Bella said kindly, but she nearly came out of her skin at his offer.

He grinned, carefully. "Nonsense. I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner, and we'll see what can't be done about your lost friends. If you would like to try and call them I would be more than happy to offer my phone to you."

"I would really appreciate it," she said and started to look into his eyes once more, but they didn't stay there.

"And what of dinner?"

Dinner was a hard idea to pass up. It felt wrong of her to think of eating at a time like this, but agreed to join him. Edward nodded and signed to Emmett in sign language, to which he responded with a nod.

"Emmett will take you to get cleaned up, as I'm sure you will want to do. You may also use the phone. When you're finished, I will meet you in the dining room. I'm sure dinner is almost ready."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen."

"No, thank you, Miss Swan." _Foolish girl._

**=x=**

Bella had never seen such a large bedroom; she was sure her father's living room could fit within the four walls three times. A large, beige canopy bed with thick posters drew in the angle moonlight from the floor-to-ceiling window, framed by silver-looking curtains. When Emmett flicked the switch next to the door, an antique chandelier came to life above her head. The light from the imitation candles illuminated the complex rope of crystal which dangled underneath. He shut the door to give her privacy. Exploring the contents of the room was a tempting thought, but instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone on the nightstand.

The calls to Angela, Jessica, Eric and Mike's cells were a lost cause. She debated on calling Charlie, but she feared that conversation most of all. If her phone had signal she could dial four-one-one and get the number for the Helen Police Department, but a quick glance from her cell phone screen proved that option impossible. Perhaps, they had become lost, just like she had._ Maybe they had gone off for time to themselves and lost their way in the dark. It's not impossible. I'll contact the police first thing in the morning._ It was going to be hard to wait. She sighed and made her way into the bathroom to wash her hands.

Thirty minutes later, after cleaning up and sipping water from the faucet in the bathroom, Bella stepped outside her door where Emmett was waiting for her. He led her down curved halls littered with art and antiquities which fascinated her. When they reached the dining room, she was overcome in the company of animal heads ranging in sizes, from antelope to elephant.

Edward, who had been sitting at the elongated table, stood when she entered the room. He pulled out the chair adjacent to him and then made his way to her, holding out his hand to accompany her to the seat. He pushed the chair in once she was seated, then positioned himself at the head of the table, straightening the edges of his black, formal vest before sitting.

"I trust you had everything you needed, Miss Swan?" Edward asked folding his hands in his lap.

Bella couldn't take her eyes off of his. She wasn't sure if she should be terrified or intrigued. Perhaps both. "Yes, thank you."

"And your friends?"

She shook her head clearly distressed.

"They'll turn up," he said with false kindness then angled a smirk which tweaked downward in his own dark humor. Bella mistook the action for reassurance.

"Your home is beautiful," she said after a moment.

"Thank you. I've put sweat and blood into maintaining my tastes."

Bella nodded. "I saw some of the art on the way down."

"Do you like art?"

"Yes. I painted for a few years, but it turns out I'm not really that good. It was a silly hobby."

"Art isn't about being good, Miss Swan. It's about releasing something you never knew you had."

"I guess that's true."

"It is true," Edward said, leaning forward slightly with a grin. He straightened up. "Take it from a soul who spent many years trying to find an outlet."

Her gaze softened as she set her elbows on the cool glaze of the table. "Do you paint?"

"That, and among many other things."

A door opened from the other side of the room and Emmett appeared, holding a plate.

"Ah, right on time. I hope you like duck, Miss Swan."

Emmett sat the white plate in front of her, and with hardly any hesitation she started to eat.

Edward did not eat, nor did he try to speak to her. He merely sat and watched her devour every last forkful. His eyes sparkled in delight when she let out a slight moan around the fresh greens that had accompanied the prepared bird carcass.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth and placed her fork on the plate with a gentle clank.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked.

Bella sipped the wine that was poured for her. "Yes, thank you. It was very good." It was then she noticed the place in front of him remained empty throughout her meal, and didn't add her presence and the bare table together until that moment. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I took your dinner, didn't I? "

He knew what she referred to and he eyed the blank space in front of him. "Don't worry. I had a light course earlier. You've taken nothing from me," he said.

She lowered her eyes from his, surrendering.

"However, I'm sorry I haven't anything sweet to offer you for dessert." His mouth caressed each syllable with care, leaving a slight space between his lips. His voice seemed to coat the walls of the dining room, although his tone was delicate, and the same nervousness from the woods bit her stomach once more.

"I would be too full to even think about dessert, Mr. Cullen," she said, touching a set of fingertips to her forehead, feeling not quite herself. "Besides, I don't think it would be appropriate given the situation."

"Very well, then. I'm sure you'll want to turn in for the night? It's getting quite late."

"I can't stay here. It wouldn't be right," Bella protested, trying to maintain her polite tone.

"Where else are you going to go? Are you going to fumble around the woods and possibly fall victim to an animal? I won't allow it. I insist you stay the night. There are clothes in the guest room that should fit you."

"What about... "

"If we haven't heard from them by morning we'll call the police. This is the only house for nearly ten miles. If they're lost, and wander far enough, they'll end up here." Edward grinned to assure her of his statement and she returned a nod, accompanied by a trusting smile, trying not to look him in the eyes.

"I can't tell you what it means to me, taking me in like this," she said.

"Think nothing of it. I'll escort you to your room."

Edward rose from his chair and extended his hand for Bella's. He tucked her arm under his and began to walk with her to the door of the dining room. Emmett appeared around the corner, jumping at their proximity, obviously startled.

Edward signed with his hands and spoke simultaneously to him. "Be sure to feed the dogs."

Emmett's brow furrowed as he nodded and walked past them to the table and gathered the few dishes. Bella was overcome with guilt that he had to clean up after her. If she hadn't have eaten, his chores would be shorter and she briefly wondered what title he held – butler or servant? And how had he become deaf and mute? She chewed on sympathy as she was escorted down the hall. She caught Edward's glance numerous times and each time her eyes would descend to the floor in front of her.

"Is there something wrong?" Edward asked.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude… it's just I've never seen anyone…"

"With my eyes?" he finished for her. It was not a guess, or even common experience. He knew her thought before she even spoke it. He had been reading them since she appeared outside the door of his manor.

"Yes."

"Do they frighten you?"

"A little. Have they been like that your whole life?"

"Yes." He declined to say which one.

"I'm sorry. That was wrong of me," she said strongly.

"You're not the first person to ask about my eyes. A man once compared me to an albino rat." He chuckled mutely at the memory.

Bella gave him an expectant grin. She was a common human, most worthy of a hunt, but Edward found himself questioning how to devour her sooner.

He felt his front slipping away, slowly revealing his true nature. It had been years since a woman freely offered him a smile without the luxury of a rouse. He had noticed her scent change when she drew nearer to him in the dining room, and her breathing intensified when he reached for her hand. At the table, he studied the rise and fall of her chest as if it held her marvelous secrets within its cavity – and it did. He did not need to read her mind to understand that she found him alluring.

He couldn't help but consume his senses in the aroma of her hair. Under the smell of pine and earth was a fresh aroma, her natural scent. It was enticing and it drew his imagination from every angle, nearly pulling his mind from its sanity to convince him to take her into him. He wanted to drink from her then, to absorb her substance with his mouth. Coating his tongue with her vital essence would be pleasing. It had been years since he had deviated from the hunt and seduced a human at will.

Seduction could be a game, as well, could it not?

The kill would be passionate, sinful and would spiral him into ecstasy. It would happen if he were to enter the bedroom with her. There would be nothing to stop the vampire from running a finger down the expanse of her arm or curling a lock of her hair around his finger to memorize the softness.

She _would_ submit to him. The thought of him harnessing himself to her, between her parted legs, already played in her mind.

He indulged in her scent again, nearly on the edge of his patience, and his blood-ridden thoughts dominated once more.

Edward visualized how he would take her, how she would allow him to explore her body while her hair spilled over a pillow on the oversized bed. If he recalled correctly, the color of the sheets were beige; they would be perfect against her dark hair.

Her hands would grip the headboard as he moved down her body to search for the perfect entrance to what he craved. Once it was found, his venom filled mouth would press against her soft skin as his lips felt the rush of her blood pass underneath. One lick from his tongue would be enough to convince him of his choice and he would bite.

The soft tissue giving to him and her calm blood soaking his mouth could cure the insanity he felt. He could almost taste it - her sweet, hot essence. It wouldn't be to its fullest potential, and nowhere near ripe with adrenaline and sweat, like it would be if she were hunted, but she would struggle and he would enjoy holding her in place.

It was then he knew he needed time; time to decide what he would do with this instant craving that consumed his body and diseased his mind. He felt as though his own body had betrayed his purpose, but he continued to ask himself, _seduction, or the hunt_?

"Mr. Cullen, are you okay?" Bella asked as they stopped outside the guest room door.

Edward couldn't imagine how he looked with the thoughts that had taken over him. His lips were thick and coated with venom as he spoke. "I'm fine," he said as he swallowed the fresh toxin that filled his mouth in preparation for the kill. "There are clothes in the chest of drawers that should fit you. I'll send Emmett up shortly to see that you found everything."

"No, that's okay. I'm sure I'll manage."

"Very well, then. Goodnight, Miss Swan," Edward said as he opened the door for her. Once she was inside he closed it abruptly. He briefly wondered if he should lock it, but decided against it. If he were to come back after she fell asleep, the sound of the locks could wake her. That was something he did not want.

He was a man possessed as he turned away and headed to the lowest level of the house, the basement. The lower he descended, the cooler and danker it became. None of this bothered him, but to a human it would be miserable if they stayed for long periods of time.

It wasn't often he journeyed into the pits of the manor, but it was now that he had no choice. His decision earlier left him with extra accessories than he knew what to do with, and he loved playing with new additions to his collections.

He pulled the master key from his pocket and unlocked the thick, wooden door at the bottom of the dark stairwell.

He entered a small room with a single cell in the middle that held his things. "Good evening," Edward said gleefully as he lightened the room with a switch on the wall. He approached the cell. His captives were silent, shivering masses that were huddled together on the farthest wall. "Are you hungry?"

"Please let us go?" a tiny voice said from the bodies.

Edward only chuckled. It was a ridiculous thing she asked. "Fear not. I bring you good news." He walked along the expanse of the cell, running his fingers along the iron bars. His fingernails trailed and hitting the metal last, leaving an unnerving sound. "More than likely, you will all live to see another day. It appears your friend, Miss Swan, has stumbled upon my estate while looking for you."

"Bella?"

"Yes, Bella." His voice was suddenly deep as he stopped when he reached the end of the front wall. He spun on his heel, and walked back, again running his fingers across the bars. "She will be taking your place tomorrow night, unless I decide to kill her before then."

It was quiet for a moment, and when there was no protest to what he had said he smiled. "Now, is there anything that I can do for you? I would hate to be an ungracious host."

"Please take him out?" a girl begged.

"Was it wrong of me to assume that you wished to enjoy his company a while longer? I thought that is what humans do after someone they love passes on."

"No," she whimpered.

Edward thought for a moment before applying his torturous consideration. "I may consider your request if one of you volunteers to go first when I call on you."

Edward could hear them hold their breaths and it transcended into silence. "No one?" he asked. "Not even the male?"

He walked quickly, unnaturally, around the backside of the cell to where they gathered, grabbed a fistful of short, black hair and pulled until the back of his head met the bars. He stuck his mouth to the man's ear to whisper his creed. "You would not die for the woman you love?"

The man cringed and sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"You, sir, are a coward," Edward snarled between his teeth. His throat erupted in a low growl at the fear the man emitted. "For not speaking up, you _will_ go first."

He started for the door. "He will stay for your continuous enjoyment."

The group expressed their opposition to his decision, but he ignored them. "Your food will be brought shortly. I suggest you eat to sustain your strength… what's left of it."

He slammed the door behind him and locked it, leaving the three captives staring at the bloody, shattered remains of their fair-haired fourth.


	5. The Hunter

**C.4  
****The Hunter**

| . . . : . . . |

_(_TWO DAYS PRIOR_)_

He was right. Her hair against the light material was painstakingly beautiful. It matched her porcelain skin. He wondered what it would be like if he were to run his finger across it again. Perhaps, this time, on her neck. Would it be just as smooth as the skin on her wrist? If it was, how long would it withstand the pressure of his bite before it gave into him and the blood flowed?

He took a step; it was a whisper. He flinched. He couldn't. He had decided to hunt her. The decision had come to him earlier when he was pacing in front of the empty fireplace in his chambers. He had rapped the notion of killing her while she slept, but it would be easy. Too easy. He had given it up long ago when the mere brush of human flesh no longer excited him.

He took another step, convincing himself that he wanted to take a closer look at the human lying in his bed, in the borrowed clothes. The human that had smiled at him while looking in his raw eyes. The human that seemed unafraid.

He took another step. It had been too long since anyone had offered him anything but pure terror. Did the girl not know death when she saw it?

Another step. Perhaps true terror wasn't known to her. There could be explanations to why his eyes were red, and he recalled her going over excuses in her mind. None of them crossed anything supernatural.

His thighs silently grazed the edge of the bed. He wanted to touch her again, to feel the expanse of her skin under his fingers. To touch her would be to kill her, a risk he was willing to take, but didn't want. He reached out to her exposed arm to blaze cold fires across her flesh. It was torturous, knowing that he could drink her now. He could hear the faint, but sure rhythm of her body. It hummed a beautiful cadence, calling to him, beckoning him to deal her death.

He curled his fingers back even though his thirst was immense, and set fire to every vein that existed within his hardened, dead body. The hollow of his throat protested, his entire being waging a war with his mind, a war his body would lose. Edward was sure of his decision. She would run away from him tonight into the endless dark where false hope lies. The forest would conceal her for some time until her mistakes were dire.

His eyes rolled in bliss at the thought of finding her in the dark. "What wonderful secrets will you tell me, Isabella?" His voice was softer than a whisper, a ghost's breath.

He leaned over to admire her face closer. She had showered. He breathed in her scent, familiarizing himself with the girl. He could almost smell her warmth, and for a moment he thought it ridiculous.

Ever so gently, he moved a piece of hair that had fallen in her face. It was like spun silk. It would be an easy thing, to wrap it around his hand and pull her from the bed. He could bury himself in the curls, absorbing her life, her energy. He gripped the small tendril between his thumb and his index finger, and smoothed it over repeatedly. Silk.

He moved closer to her face, and whispered to himself, "What shall I keep of you?"

What ever it was, that piece of her would belong to him.

Forever.

**=x=**

Bella stretched her arms over her head as dawn entered her room and laid over the bed she occupied. She pointed her toes to stretch further then sat up to observe her surroundings.

It was for a brief moment where she thought her childhood dreams of being a princess had come true. The space was filled with trinkets, statues, art, vases, and elegant furniture. One particular piece stood out amongst the others; a curvy vanity with a pillowy bench.

Bella put her feet to the floor and walked across the room to get a closer look. It appeared old, but in excellent shape.

"It looks Victorian," she said softly to herself as she ran her hand along the woodwork. Her fingers dipped into the ridges of the floral pattern that encompassed the oval mirror. A white, knitted cloth lattice protected the antique from its residents.

Antique combs, brushes, and hair pins were set out neatly as if waiting to be used. She touched everything, consumed by the heirlooms set out before her. Old perfume bottles with their contents still inside sat in the corner. These pieces fascinated Bella the most. She picked them up to examine the relics trapped in time. She lifted the glass stoppers and squeezed the atomizers to expel the scents from their glass prisons.

Floral perfume from different ages wafted around her. It was nearly overwhelming but she smiled then fanned the air with a wave of her hand. She sat down on the bench to examine them further and even ran a comb through her tangled hair while she looked into the mirror.

When she was younger she had wanted a vanity. It was where the beautiful women in movies sat to apply expensive cosmetics. It was princess-like in her young mind, a regal definition of being a woman. She used to imagine what she would plan or do while sitting at one.

She smiled at the memory then twisted her thick hair around her finger, playing, then allowed her natural curls to fall in her face.

A knock and voice ripped through the room. "Miss Swan, are you awake, and decent?"

She stood and quickly stepped away from the vanity. "Yes!"

The door opened and Edward filed in, followed by Emmett carrying a large silver tray.

"What's this?" Bella asked as Emmett placed it on the bench at the end of the bed.

"Breakfast," Edward said. He pointed to the variety on the plate. "Fresh strawberries, egg whites, a bagel with various condiments since we are unsure of what you like, and freshly squeezed orange juice from the garden."

Bella's mouth parted. She let out an exasperated breath. "Wow. You really know how to treat your guests. Keep this up and you'll never get rid of me." She laughed.

Edward grinned and waved his hand at Emmett, signaling him to leave. He obeyed, and Edward sat on the edge of the ruffled bed and smoothed his palm over the material.

"In part, that is what I came to talk to you about."

"About what?" she asked.

Edward's bloody eyes trained down to the bed then back at her. It was a sight that warranted getting use to. "Spending the day with me. You can imagine that I seldom receive visitors, and I enjoy company greatly. Emmett's presence only extends so far."

If there should have been hesitation to consider his request, it was not taken. "Sure."

Her mouth dropped and her eyes grew wide. She stepped toward him, closing the distance between them, remembering why she was there. _How could I forget?_ "Have you – have you heard from them? My friends?"

Edward took air into his dead lungs, breathing her in. "I'm afraid not."

"Maybe Angela or Jessica called me," she said, panicked.

She stepped away to the opposite side of the bed and began to search vigorously for her cell phone. She searched under the bed, around the table, in her pants, and when it didn't surface she threw her hands in the air. "My phone is missing."

"Shame," Edward said rising off the mattress.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

"My home is your home. Feel free to borrow what ever you need."

"Thanks." She picked up the receiver then slammed it down. "Shit!"

"Is something wrong?" Edward asked.

Bella sighed and pushed both hands through her hair. "Yeah. I don't know their numbers. I've always had them on my contact list so I've never had to dial 'em. They change every year it seems."

"Did you leave it downstairs, and perhaps forgot about it?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Edward walked over to her and took her hand, leading her back to the bench that held her breakfast. She sat down and sighed heavily, ridden with guilt, compelled to cry.

_This is my fault._

Edward knelt in front of her and took up her hand. "Miss Swan, this may seem unorthodox, coming from someone that you don't know, but this is not your fault," he said, echoing her thoughts. "It feels that way, but guilt and hopelessness is a natural human emotion in situations such as these. I'm sure they are somewhere right now, together. Don't worry, they will turn up."

She fought the tears at his words. Was he right? "You think so?"

"I know so." He smiled falsely, but she couldn't tell the difference. He squeezed her hand then stood. "Now, I encourage you to eat, freshen up, then join me downstairs when you are ready. I'll search for your phone while I wait. Perhaps you dropped it in the hall?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. I can't tell you how much your kindness means to me right now."

He opened the door then turned. "Think nothing of it." He went to walk out the door but caught himself, remembering the final nail to hammer into her coffin. "I went ahead and took the liberty of writing down the number to the police department for you. It's on your tray. You may want to give them a call soon."

Before she could answer, Edward closed the door. He made for his library situated on the first floor, gripping onto and crushing Bella's cell phone in his pocket.

It wasn't long before Bella had taken Edward's advice and called the police. She explained the situation, and where she was. He, in turn, told her they would do all they could.

She instantly felt relieved at his words and hung up the phone satisfied with her decision. But the feeling didn't last long. She still had to explain the situation to Charlie. She spent another twenty minutes pacing the room, talking to herself – working up the courage to pick up the phone once again.

It never came. She feared the call. No amount of self pep-talk was going to cure that.

"Just get it over with, Bella. Just pick up the phone and call."

Her hand trembled as she picked up the receiver and held it to her ear, preparing to punch in the number.

Silence.

No dial tone.

"What the hell? It was just working."

She pressed and released the button several times but it never yielded a tone. "Fuck." She slammed the phone into the cradle. It was a curse and a blessing that walked the same thin line.

"At least I won't have to deal with him right now," she muttered as she sifted through the drawers to find something to wear for the day, knowing she wouldn't be able to hold off the conversation forever.

**=x=**

Bella spent the late morning and early afternoon with Edward. She listened to him play the piano, and talk but learned nothing about him. He became guarded when she broached the subject of his childhood, playing the piano even louder and becoming lost in the music.

Emmett was on hand and continued to serve hors d'oeuvres to her on a silver serving tray. She smiled at his thoughtfulness, but gestured to her stomach hoping to let him know she was full. It was rare that she felt so much emotion toward a big man such as him - they were supposed to be tough and manly, but she still held pity and was upset that she couldn't communicate other than simple nods or hand gestures. It was too apparent that he enjoyed her company when he returned a dimpled smile that reached his brown, sparkling eyes. He knew all too well the power of a smile, and it had been a long time since he had seen one as beautiful as hers.

Smiles weren't a frequent thing around that manor, unless they came from the monster, but they were never genuine.

Edward eyed their exchange across under the wing of his large, black instrument while pounding out the remaining notes of his original composition. When he finished he pushed his fallen locks out of his face, stood, and walked to Emmett quickly. He yanked the glass pitcher from his hands then placed it on the coffee table in front of Bella. He signed to him, _prepare an early dinner._ Emmett recognized the wild gleam in Edward's eye, but nodded in defeat, drew back his shoulders, and headed for the kitchen. Edward's lip twitched into a sneer at his leave but dismissed it before turning to Bella who was curled up comfortably on the pillowy leather couch.

The glass that she had been sipping from all afternoon was bordering on empty. It did not escape Edward's attention.

"Would you care for more tea?"

"No, thank you," Bella said. "I really need to be leaving, anyway."

Edward was at her side on the couch in an instant leaning into her but not too close. "Stay," he whispered.

The movement startled Bella and she drew back slightly. "Mr. Cullen," she breathed, "I need to go back to my camp site. What if they're waiting for me?"

"What if they're not? What will you do then?"

Her lips parted, allowing a steady breath to slip from her body. "Wait, I guess?"

"At the very least, have dinner with me? Emmett is preparing a wonderful meal in your honor." He knew how to get her to stay. He would use her weakness against her; pity. "How would he feel if he knew you missed it on purpose?"

Her features lightened, and she sighed. "I guess I can stay a while longer."

Edward smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. In that case, I have something for you. Come."

He pulled her to his arm and they walked up the dark stairs. Bella's fingers splayed across the threads of his long-sleeved shirt. She could have swore it was the same button down shirt he had wore to dinner last night but it was his house so she didn't question it.

Edward's shoulders tightened. He knew her next question. Her steps seemed to slow with the deliberate thought.

"How did Emmett become the way that he is? Was he born like that?"

"It's a long story," he offered.

Bella smiled. "We have the rest of the day." _And the rest of the night._

She liked that idea even if his eyes were strange.

"Will you settle for a dinner time story? We'll have time then."

"I suppose so."

"Good, because there is something I want to show you, something I would like for you to have."

"Have?" Bella asked as they stepped inside a room. Another elaborate chandelier lit up the room. Her hand slipped from him as she took in the new surroundings. It was twice as big as the guest room she had slept in, but was bare with the exception of a large, dark four-poster bed. Even though it was dusty it was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows were decorated in heavy drapes on either side of the bed, and dark and light wood lay together to create stars inside a circle in the middle of the room.

Edward progressed forward and entered a closet. A moment later he stepped out holding a very large, very thick garment bag.

Flashbacks of prom strewed across Bella's mind. _Oh no,_ she thought.

She gave Edward a timid grin. "What's that?"

"Would you be opposed to formal wear?"

"Formal wear?"_ Dresses meant dangerous shoes_. "I don't know, I'm not that graceful in heels." She chuckled to make light of the situation. It's not that she didn't like dresses, in fact she loved them, but she would much rather keep her feet flat on the ground.

However, Edward knew it wouldn't be difficult to convince her to wear the simple item. He unzipped the bag to allow the dress to fall out of its confines.

It breathed and fluffed once out of the thick plastic and Bella's eyed widened. She sighed.

"Oh, wow." She reached out to examine it, but withdrew, giving Edward a wary glance.

"It's alright," he assured her.

She picked up the train and marveled in the skirt's fluidity and the light beading on the bodice. It was regal and she dared to think, princess-like.

Edward swore he saw the pearly white reflection of the material in her eyes.

"What do you say?" he edged deeply. "Let's play dress-up for one night."

"Mr. Cullen, I don't think…"

"_Shh_. Don't think."

He tossed the dress on the bed, then pulled her close, gripping onto her hand and placing the other to the small of her back. Their bodies fastened – touching from torso to thigh. The new arrangement made Bella dizzy and lightheaded. It only made Edward thirsty. For a moment, he thought to kill her. Why bother going through the trouble of building her up only to tear her down? He could finish this, her, right now.

The idea was mesmerizing.

A new sickness entered his mind and possessed his body.

_She wants you, _he reasoned. _She wants you to claim her now._

She did. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her mind, and smell it on her skin.

_The bed is here. It is how you imagined it would be. Take her and be done with it!_

He took a step forward. She took a step back.

Another and then another, until they moved carelessly, slowly, across the floor as he lead her in a smooth-gated dance. The look on her face appeared to be surprise. She couldn't believe that she was actually doing this. She didn't think she could dance.

She spun out of Edward's arms at his delight then reined her back in. Her feet only tangled slightly.

"Look into my eyes – never at the floor," he said.

His body burned for her blood.

"Do you dance with all your guests?" Bella asked as she met his gaze. She trembled under his touch as they continued to move.

"I told you that I never have guests. But if I did, the answer would be no."

The bed was closer, then. He pushed her feet to move in the desired direction.

"Mr. Cullen?" She flushed as Edward contorted her body into a shallow dip. Her hair touched the mattress which would be her undoing. It was the time.

"We're past formalities." He brought her up to meet his face, inches away from hers now. The venom thickened and his teeth sharpened whether or not by his will. It was out of his control now. "Call me Edward."

Her expression, once gentle, eroded into fear. She gasped and struggle from his grip, scooping around him then backing to the door.

"Are you okay?" she asked blinking several times to try and clear the images. Perhaps she imagined it?

He was brought out of his hypnotic state by her absence and question. _It's better this way. She needs to be hunted. She's not ripe, not sweltered enough, not hot enough._

His vampire nature slithered away before he turned to her. "I'm fine. My apologies."

He took up the dress and led Bella out of the room that served as his master suite. Once they were down the hall and had entered the guest room, he dropped the dress on the bed and left her in the middle of the room while he made for the door.

"I'll send Emmett for you when dinner is ready. There are shoes in that trunk. You should find everything you need in here. Don't delay in readying yourself."

He quickly closed the door, turning over the locks behind him.

Her pulse accelerating. Did she just see what she thought she saw? She pushed her hands through her hair and shook it.

_It's your imagination. Chill out._

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and sighed heavily. She thought about Jessica, Angela, Eric and even Mike as she opened the trunk and dug through the shoes inside. She wondered where they were, and what they were doing. More importantly, she hoped they were okay.

A tear escaped her eye as she pulled a pair of white heels out of the trunk then slammed it closed.

**=x=**

She sat at the vanity, turning her face from side to side to examine the angles of her hair. It wasn't how she always imagined it would be. She always thought she'd be happier, but this situation was ill-timed. She wiped the tears away then smoothed her palms over the light material on the fluffy skirt.

A knock resounded through the room. She stood up quickly and clanked to the door, the dress swishing and bouncing wildly around her ankles.

She stepped into the hallway, smiling at Emmett. He returned it, not wanting to be rude by keeping a straight face. He offered his arm which she graciously took. She nearly tripped but he steadied her.

She stared down at the floor while they walked in silence, noticeably embarrassed about having to clutch onto his rock-hard bicep. His skin was warm and smooth, a comparable difference to the way Edward's had felt through his clothes. He always seemed cold, and she wondered why.

They entered the dining room where Edward greeted her and took her from Emmett, who retreated through a door that led to the kitchen.

Still unsure of what she saw earlier, she couldn't find her graciousness and manners when Edward pushed her chair perfectly into position as she sat.

"You look wonderful. The dress was a perfect fit," he said straightening out his black and white suit.

"It's a little tight, but I managed to zip it up."

He sat. "You can't tell it."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen," she said softly.

"I told you, call me Edward."

She nodded. "Sorry. You can use my first name, too."

"Bella," he said. "Beautiful. Very appropriate."

"Thank you."

Edward tapped on the table. "Dinner should be ready any moment. I hope you are hungry."

She nodded. Surprisingly, she was hungry, regardless of all the food she ate earlier. "Are you going to tell me about Emmett?"

"I told you I would." Edward sat back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee. He pushed a finger over his bottom lip. "Where to begin? I suppose I could start with how we met. It was a couple of years back, and I hadn't been in Georgia long. I met Emmett in Gainesville, and at the time he was working as achef…" Edward glanced up at Emmett as he entered the dining room carrying one plate. "Ah, speak of the devil. Dinner is served."

Bella smiled at Emmett and picked up her fork, digging into the chicken dish she was given. "It shows. This is wonderful."

"I wouldn't know," Edward said with weighed measure. "Anyway, when I saw him, I was taken with him immediately. He was different from anyone I had ever met, and I've met a lot of people over the years. He held a certain quality that no one else has. After speaking with him, I knew that I wanted to hire him for my house, but to understand my fascination with him, you must first know me.

"You see, I'm not normal. I differ greatly from you or him. So greatly, in fact, that I am something else entirely."

Bella stopped chewing and swallowed harshly. Had she expected that moment to arise, to be given the truth that he was, in fact, some type of monster? "W—what are you?"

Edward smiled at her fear. "An illusion, a masochist, a lion in a world of lambs, a hidden nosferatu. Nothing more than a whisper among men." The name she would know was coming and he was powerless to stop it. "Vampire."

A chill crept up her spine and the grip she had been maintaining on her fork became lax and it dropped to the floor. "What?"

"That's right. A vampire; a legend of ancient folklore sitting right here in front of you."

She shook her head and laughed. She shook her finger at him. "You almost had me. Good one."

Edward did not laugh, and when Bella saw the gleam in his eye, a glint of seriousness, she stopped laughing too. What she hoped to be a joke was not.

"See, when I became what I am, I developed certain gifts which allow me to penetrate the mind of others. I found that I could read others' thoughts, learn their secrets, their desires, pin numbers, bank accounts. No one was immune to my talent."

"And me?" Bella asked.

He stared at her for a minute. "You're unsure of what to think of me. You find me cold, intriguing, attractive, charming, and as of late, frightening. You haven't thought nearly enough for your friends, and have thought more of how to bed me."

Her breath staggered and her heart quickened. He knew. He knew everything.

"Yes, I know. I know everything. Every minuscule thought or idea that has passed through your head from the moment you walked through my door, I have heard. You should be ashamed of yourself - wanting to sleep with a perfect stranger when you have a man waiting for you at home."

She shook her head. A flutter rose in her stomach and it turned. She felt sour and uneasy. Tears threatened to break through and further reveal her turmoil. "He's not my boyfriend."

"But you want him to be… or did."

Bella squeezed her eyes shut and a tear fell. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

She rose quickly and pushed away from the table to exit the dining room. "I hope you enjoy your dinner, and thank you for the hospitality. I've overstayed my welcome." She called over her should and wiped the moisture off her cheeks.

When Edward appeared in front of her she gasped and stumbled back. "You don't seem to understand, Bella." He took her hand and placed it under his elbow. "Come. I would like to show you something."

"No, I really have to go."

"Nonsense. We have all night, remember?"

He smiled and led her through glowing halls that seemed different now than before. The antiques made sense to Bella now. If he was what he said he was, then they were his. They might have been things that he had bought during their time.

"Everything that you see on this floor, in these halls, are mine. I couldn't bare to part with them."

"The perfume yours, too?" Her tone was harsh.

Edward chuckled. "Of course not. Those items in your room belonged to the women that I have killed over the years. I like to keep one thing from each victim as a reminder of them. What can I say? I'm nostalgic."

She stumbled. "Where are you taking me?"

"To show you my collection since you seem to hold doubt in your mind," he said, his eyes trained forward.

"What collection?"

"My most prized."

They stopped outside a pair of dark, wooden double doors. Bella contemplated on running, but Edward gripped to her tighter.

"There will be time for running soon," he said then pushed the doors open. A room containing a mountain of books streamed into Bella's sight – volumes upon volumes. Lights flickered on across the expanse, and if it weren't for what she saw between them, she would have been in awe.

There, between the tales of endless utopias, were shapes of monstrosity. Her throat strangled her breath, her feet pushed against the floor to get away, but the vampire held fast to her arm, pulling her inside with minimal effort.

"Come along, Bella. These things won't bite."

He shut the door behind them. She was trapped. No more a butterfly in the hands of a destructive boy, readying to have her wings removed.

Regardless of what he was or what he did, she held onto him tightly, pleading with herself to not fall or faint.

"You're trembling," he said, and gave her slight notice by grazing the tips of his fingers along the quivering skin at her arm. "You mustn't fear these tokens. They are not alive. No harm will come to you in this room."

He guided Bella to the far left wall, and flipped on a light that was situated inside a glass box containing his first trinket.

She gasped in horror and flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

Edward grinned. "Ah, Governor Charles Bewittleman. The first time I ever removed a head, and the first one I ever embalmed. As you can imagine this holds a place in my heart. An accomplishment that was prize worthy. The great Governor here was, as I recall, an excellent runner. Top physical condition." Edward let out a scoff of amusement and leaned into Bella. "Well, almost."

Bella couldn't bring herself to look at the head. She trembled and whimpered. Her chest reverberated with the sobs she had been holding onto tightly. They were released as Edward led her to the next and flipped the light on to the glass case.

"Oh, God," Bella breathed. It was monstrous, unnatural, and contorted.

"This young man was a bit of a show off. He engaged in the acts of war but couldn't quite remove himself from the idea that he was not invincible. I found Private First Class Royce King on the first night of the hunt. He had stolen my garden hose, climbed up in a tree, and hanged himself with it. I must say, I didn't see that one coming. I couldn't quite get his jaw straight though," Edward pointed out and cocked his head to the side.

He led her to the next, then the next, telling her the stories of the few heads mounted on his wall in their glass containers. On another wall were various glass jars of different sizes, containing other specimens that he had taken over the years.

Fingers, hearts, eyes – he took whatever he wanted if it was worth his time. Bella had never seen such horror. She felt weak as he spoke.

"I need to go," she said mindlessly.

"Stay. We have more to discuss."

"No," she swallowed. "We have nothing to talk about. I need to go…I need to find my friends."

"You'll never find them," he nearly singed.

Bella stopped her resisting at his words. "You have them, don't you?"

He grinned.

He had them. She knew he did. "Where?" Her eyes searched his, desperately, nearly crazed. "Where? You son of a bitch! Where are they?"

"They're safely stowed away until I need them, with the exception of one."

Another tear fell, and she feared the answer to her question. "Who?"

"That Mike character. I couldn't stand listening to his thoughts."

"What did you do with him?"

"He's gone," Edward answered.

"Gone! What do you mean gone?" Bella backed up.

"Meaning his game has ended."

Her knees gave out and she sunk to the floor. Her body felt unsteady, as if it were made of jelly. There was nothing to hold her up. She felt somewhat comforted that Angela and Jessica were okay, but feared for their safety.

"I called the police. They'll find you. You'll never get away with this." she said bowing to the floor, feeling sick to her stomach.

Edward stepped to her. "Don't be so foolish, Bella. Do you really think I'd give you the number to the police department? You called me on my private line."

"You can't get away with this forever."

He grinned. "Yes, I can."

"How?"

"Because I never lose. I'll walk you out." He erected her off the floor.

"You're letting me go?"

He tucked her waving arm under his elbow and led her out. "Of course. How else am I supposed to catch you unless you are first released?"

Her eyes widened as it became clear. He wanted to hunt her. "No! No, I'm not playing your game!"

He was pulling her down the hall now. "You haven't much of a choice, my dear, and since I find myself in the presence of a lady, being the distinguished gentleman that I am, you will have until midnight."

"Until midnight? For what?"

He pulled her past the dining room, and headed for the back doors of his manor. The halls were dark, bare, and smelled of old wood. Edward's eyes glimmered. "When you are released, you have until midnight to get as far away from the house as possible. At the stroke of midnight, not a minute too soon or too late, I will leave to hunt you."

The light from the setting sun lit the way around the corner and revealed a large room with bare floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides. Tangerine clouds fluffed from behind the forest that lay deep in his backyard.

"What happens if you don't find me?"

Edward opened one of the French doors, chuckling. "I told you, I never lose."

He spun her around, inches from his face and inhaled her deep into his lungs. Bella thought she heard him hum. "And I _can't wait_ to find you," he whispered.

He let her go, leaving Bella to step outside into the warm air. The sounds of nocturnal life were already awakening and they surrounded her. She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing she was defenseless.

"Your time begins now," Edward said as he stood in the door way.

She only stared at him, looked around, then returned to him. She said nothing.

"I suggest you run," he said darkly.

She was too terrified to move, even though she knew perfectly well that he was serious.

He took a slow step to her and bared his newly emerged fangs. His face contorted into an angry mess of flesh while a growl tore through his chest. "Unless you wish to die now?"

She picked up the skirt of her fluid-like dress and started to run as fast as she could. The heels clacked against the pavement and echoed against the house.

"That's it," Edward whispered to himself, and then shouted to her, "Run! Run, little swan! The hunter comes at midnight! And he's not as generous as I!"

Bella ran past fountains and marble statues. She passed a pool, intricately bedded flowers, and fruit trees. When the cement had run its course and she hit the grass she tripped and fell to the ground. She gathered herself up again, then stripped the heels from her feet, agitated at their limitations.

She turned to look at the manor that she had left behind. She no longer saw the owner, but a wide dark figure in a lit window on the first floor. Bella wiped the mucus from her nose and turned for the tree-line that was still several yards away.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and started to run once again, leaving behind the borrowed heels in the grass. She wasn't sure what she would find in the woods, but she would take her chances.

Anything was better than the hunter.


	6. A Human Counterpart

**C.5  
****A Human Counterpart**

| . . . : . . . |

_A/N:  
_

(**Bold print** represents sign language.)

_Please remember that this is first, and foremost, a horror story. Dark themes are very present in this chapter._

| . . . : . . . |

Emmett gripped the heavy drapes and pulled them together. He quickly turned from the window to Edward who was stepping briskly into the room. He couldn't hear it but he knew that Edward was whistling. His puckered lips and the bounce in his step were the only hints. He never knew the tune that he would sound to himself, but he knew it was present.

Their eyes met through the soundless space as Edward tilted his head to the side. His smile faded. He raised his hands to speak to Emmett the only way he could.

**You feel sorry for her.**

Emmett responded quickly. **No.**

**I may not be able to hear your thoughts, but I can read your face.**

**Maybe you're going blind.**

Edward smiled at him, amused.

**Don't worry, my friend. Your time is approaching.**

**I'm looking forward to it.**

He knew his intention from the moment Edward had trapped him into this life of servitude and death that he would make good on his promise to kill him, he knew it well. He prayed for it, and it was only a matter of time.

**Take out the meat that is stinking up my basement.**

With Edward's final signs, he turned on his heels. Emmett watched the fleeting shadow of the vampire as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his library. It was where he always went before the hunt. It was a sight that Emmett had seen many times before. He didn't know what he did in there, and he was sure that he cared not to know. He had seen Edward's collection once, and he never wanted to see it again.

He took one last peek at the orange-streaked sky through a sliver of fabric before doing what was asked of him; the bidding of a monster, a monster that held his biggest fear over his head – pain and the ability to sever body parts.

He recalled that day well, but cared not to think of it now, but pain and memories are persistent demons.

His hands and eyes worked together in perfect unison as he prepared three plates of food. He carefully measured the portions to ensure they were even, and then gave a tender swipe across the bare rim with a towel. Presentation was everything.

He piled them on a large tray with cups of water then headed to the lowest recesses of the house. It was dark and damp with a new stench that permeated the tight air. He breathed through his mouth the lower he stepped to the basement. The cryptic stink was suffocating as he opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell. The vampire had not drained his first victim from the group, the smell was the proof. He continued to breathe through his mouth, taking shallow breaths.

He placed the tray on a wooden stool that was situated close to the door, then turned up the lighting so he could work on removing the corpse efficiently. He pulled a taser from his pocket and inserted the key into the lock. He didn't want to use the defector on his fellow man. He wasn't the one for violence, but if it would keep them safe then he would. If they should happen to escape he could hold onto one, maybe two, but not three. If they made for the stairs, Edward would know. He would hear their thoughts of escape. He would injure them, and when it was their time to be set free into the backyard, they would suffer. The unnecessary pain was pointless. He didn't want them to suffer more than they had to.

The humans were gathered in the far corner of the cell, bunched up and cowering away from the new light that revealed the horror across from them.

Emmett could smell their stench now. The undeniable sting of urine burned his nostrils and a pail that he had provided them sat in the opposite corner. From the smell of it he knew that it had been used. It was the first time he had cared for victims in this way. The devil that lived above them would not have cared if the humans urinated themselves. He would have laughed. He would have cackled at the very sight of it. He would have called them weak and pathetic when they were already down on their knees pleading for their very lives.

Emmett brought his hand up to tell them to stay back, but they didn't need to be told. He watched them closely as he grabbed onto the hand of the body, the man they called Mike. He dragged the limp and rotting carcass from the cell then placed the tray in before closing and locking the door. He watched them for a moment while they loosened their grip on one another. They stared back in silence.

Emmett's hand fell from the bar with an exhale as he studied their faces. He had seen that look before on many different occasions, but these expressions carried more than fear. There was an undeniable sadness. What else would there be? They were at the end of their life. Death had their numbers in his hand; he only had to call them for it to be final.

He had filled their shoes only briefly, but it was false. His fate would be worse than death. What could be worse than serving Death himself?

The feel of dead flesh did not threaten him from slipping the single ring off Mike's icy finger. He did it quickly with only slight resistance from its keeper. He examined the little thing in his palm briefly. He felt the weight of the metal and noted the intricate lines on the sides. It was a senior class ring. He had one briefly, but lost it after giving it to an ex-girlfriend. Silly high school romanticisms.

Out of his normal routine of removing the belongings from the body and placing them aside for Edward to sort through, Emmett stood from his crouched position then walked back to the cell. He held out the ring through the bars, nodding his head with an open palm. It was Jessica that stepped to him slowly and pinched the ring in her shaking fingers.

She said something to him. The way her mouth moved it looked to be "thank you". He hadn't fully learned to read lips yet and in this dim lighting he was even less sure. He only went back to his duties of covering up the murder that he helped commit. He had not personally killed this boy, but he did nothing to stop it from happening. He was guilty all the same. And he would not leave remains to rot without proper disposal. He would show this boy the last bit of kindness left in this house, as he did with all the others before him.

He opened another door in the same room, dragged the body through, and then closed it when it had cleared the swing of the thick wooden frame. Beads of sweat dripped from his skin as he stuffed the body into the large, roaring furnace. He ignored the grim, blood, and open wounds, but the smell this close was entirely different.

His decay was apparent and had been accelerated due to the massive gashes and holes in his flesh, even in the cool confines of the basement. It was a different type of rot than the others he had burned, which were normally taken care of right away. Edward had not allowed Emmett to touch this one. Instead, he watched as it was taken easily away to torture the ones that had been allowed to keep their lives.

He absently watched the body burn for a few moments then closed the iron door to the furnace. The skin would melt from the bone and soon become nothing more than mere ash. He decided that he would dump the ashes in the small stream that ran close to the house. It would be a decent ceremony, even if he was the only one that would attend.

**=x=**

The night was quickly swallowing all that Bella could see. The moonlight was pale and stricken, causing her sight to be limited. It seemed darker tonight than it had been previously, and she noted that she had been doing the exact same thing twenty-four hours ago. Only now, she wasn't looking for a familiar face. She wasn't looking for hope of discovery. She was looking for a way to escape and her thoughts tangled on how to save the remaining three.

Every angle was lost in the shadows. Every piece of light faded from inside her soul when his face turned horrid and rigid.

She didn't remember when she started crying, but once her movements halted in the thick surroundings her fingers swept against her cheeks. She sniffled and her body turned erratically at the sound of movement to the left of her. Branches cracked under the weight of a body, or did they fall from a tree? Bella couldn't be sure. She squinted in the dim light, her breath picked up and she moved quickly away from the sound.

It could be him, she thought. Anything that she hears or sees could be him. She did not trust him to keep his word about midnight. Even if he did, what chance did she have against something like him? What would keep her from his cold, bony fingers that wanted nothing more than to kill her?

It all seemed hopeless no matter what idea she thought of. She knew that she would never be fast enough to outrun him. If his words held any truth, then he would read her thoughts and know her plans, but still she pressed on.

For a half-hour she walked over spiny tentacles of barbed wire, overgrown brush, and fallen logs. She listened to the nocturnal sounds of wildlife, hoping that it would bring her comfort to keep her mind from wandering to death and its ability to find her. Fireflies blinked through the trees, a beautiful note in a symphony of fear.

Not far away a faithful whippoorwill cast its premonition into the darkness to anybody that would listen.

The skirt of the dress snagged on everything she stepped over, and Bella constantly had to pull it from the ground. She continued to mind the branches that reached for her as she wandered into the furthest reaches of the forest.

"The campsite should be around here somewhere. If I can find that, then I can find my way to the road," she said absently to herself. She charted the drive in her head. They had passed a small town on the way, roughly ten miles away. It would take her more time than she was allotted if she walked. Her only option was to hitch-hike.

When she looked up, the weave of trees had disappeared in the filter of the blue moonlight. There was blackness ahead, as if something was obscuring her vision. Her steps quickened, but were still mindful as her feet were bare and vulnerable.

As she closed in on the object, she reached out to touch it. It's rough texture and crevices caused her heart to sink, all hope fading with it. Her eyes trailed the monstrosity until its dark figure met the sky and trees.

The wall.

**=x=**

"Something is missing," Edward said as his fingers bounced along the book spines on the shelf. Without looking he pulled one out then took a peek at its interior. It didn't amuse him. He tossed it over his shoulder and it landed with a loud, shuffled thump on the floor. Hours had passed since he released the girl, and the time to hunt was getting closer, but that didn't help his patience.

He continued to walk down the parallel lines of the bookcases, his fingers always on the old columns. He pulled out another, took a peek, and then tossed it over his shoulder once again. "I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Nothing seems to satisfy me anymore. No lingering thought or a careless whisper goes untouched. I should delight in it." He recalled these words he had spoken days before as he said them aloud once again. They were still true. Even after playing with the girl and knowing that he would soon take part in another hunt he found himself exasperated at the idea that she would be found.

They were always found.

"Perhaps it is time for a new game," he said. "Maybe I should find something else to do in addition to this. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love to sniff them out in the darkness. The anticipation is what excites me most, but after that it turns… dull."

Two books flew off the shelf by his hands. They soared across the library and hit the wall with an astounding thud. The scent of the old books – centuries old paper and the crisp, metallic ink – soared from the rustling pages. He could almost detect the origin of the books, each one, to him, smelled differently than the other, but no matter where they yielded, he loved the scent.

They had kept him sane for many years while he was a newborn. He read the folklore and myths that concentrated on his species, but he came to find that most of the tales were false. He thought it a good thing that he wouldn't burn in the sunlight or couldn't be killed by a stake through the heart.

He detested the smell of garlic but that had nothing to do with what he was. He had hated it when he was mortal.

Crucifixes were a fascination but only because of their morbid history.

Yes, he liked crucifixes very much.

But there was nothing that could hold him. There wasn't a whisper he couldn't hear, or a thought or book that had gone untouched. Soon, the majority of his library content was in the middle of the floor.

Edward un-characteristically allowed his eyes to close for a long moment while he paced. His fingertips dragged on one of the glass casings that contained one of his favorite specimens. He stopped and turned to the preserved head; its obsidian pigment his salvation against the dull ache of repetition.

He stared for a long moment. "Perhaps a favorite?" He seemed to ask the article. An eye on the head seemed to wink.

"Yes," he chanted to himself repeatedly as the thick heels of his shoes collided with the floor. He pulled the book from its rightful place among his collection and he held it up high above his head with a full smile. "A favorite, gentlemen!"

The title on the spine was faded, its gold flecks a reminder of what once was.

_Dracula._

He opened the tattered pages to where he had left off from several months ago then sat down on the chair. He appeared to shift and crossed one leg over the other knee in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. He held the book spine regally in his palm as he smoothed the page down with the other.

His hand was in his hair, pushing the fallen locks out of his face as his fingertips and palm slid over his scalp. "Now, let's see… ah, right… here we are." He eyed the glass cases before beginning to read aloud.

"The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff was afflicted, or blessed, with something of his own obsequious suavity.

"Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out from the death chamber, 'She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our establishment!'."

Edward's voice wasn't as thick as it usually was when he read his favorite piece of literature; it was now dwindling and empty, much like him. He clenched his jaw, his keen teeth grinding into the others. "No," he whispered as he closed the book then set it on the small, round table next to him. "This will not do. This will not do at all."

It was as if there was an obstacle in his mind that blocked him from resolution. What absence he felt. What would it take to cure this state? He had asked the very same question days earlier to a victim he housed very briefly; more brief than the absent Bella Swan.

A groan slipped from his throat. The thought of her hiding in the darkness absorbed his senses. The way that her dark hair flowed over the cream-colored pillow, her pale skin in the moonlight, and the way her pounding heart increased in velocity when he touched her. He had forgotten the desire that women could feel. No one looked at him as a sexual being, except for the foolish, or fearless.

And she smiled at him… smiled… at the monster. He never recalled his prey smiling at him, even when his red irises were shielded by humans. His very presence repelled even the most absent minds, as if they knew that he was dangerous and out of sorts. And they were right.

It had been months since he had fed from a woman. Most of his victims had always been men. They were the most interesting to hunt, but women were sweeter, more like a dessert than a meal.

A low rumbled of frustration came from his chest as the hands on the clock told how much longer he'd have to wait to venture into the backyard. "I'm bored."

His head lolled as he sat in an antique chair in the center of the room. It wasn't his favorite, but the concern of material things wasn't heavy on his mind – the hunt was. He took a concentrated breath of air, even though he didn't need it.

In a desperate attempt to allow his mind to lax, he moved swiftly from the chair and stepped around the scattered remains of his library. The magical and factual pages lied open to the ceiling or face to the floor. Before walking out the door he stopped and turned to face the new clutter. His face scrunched then released.

"I'll think about that tomorrow." He almost sighed.

His wandering steps led him to the darkest recesses of the house; the basement. It was without the faintest hint of sobs or words being exchanged but he was assured of their vitality when he increased the lighting and saw them in their usual places. They were, again, huddled into the back corner away from the cell door. They had heard footsteps in the stairwell coming down and hoped it to be the bigger man. He was satisfied at their disappointment.

He approached the cell. "I need the boy."

They exchanged glances.

The dark-haired boy, whom Edward understood from thoughts to be Eric, stepped forward without a word. He wasn't surrendering, only protecting the woman he loved and his friend from this man. Although he didn't quite know who or what he was dealing with, he wouldn't be called a coward again. Edward smiled. How right the boy was. If he refused the invitation he would be criticized once again for being yellow, then he would take him anyway.

Human males today held no honor unless there was a prize, or a punishment in the end. Edward always used this to his advantage.

"No worries, ladies. He'll be back soon," Edward directed to the cell. "After you." He held the door open for Eric.

He glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow and a concentrated gaze, not knowing if it would be the last time he would see Angela again. She was at the bars, holding onto them as he disappeared behind the wooden door. He repeated sentiments in his head as he walked up the stairs. He thought of ways he could fight the man behind him, but his confidence was an invisible front.

"You will regret trying to escape, I assure you," Edward said to him.

The statement closed Eric's thoughts on the subject.

When they entered the library, Edward gestured to the room. "Please, make yourself at home. There is some bourbon in that glass jar that I keep for just this occasion. Help yourself."

"No, I'm okay," Eric said. The books on the floor were the first thing he noticed, then it was the various trinkets that Edward had collected, including the heads that were darkened in their glass cases. A breath escaped as his eyes adjusted. He questioned silently if they were real or a figment of his imagination. Had he spent too much time in the dark?

"I assure you, they are quite real," Edward answered his internal ponderings proudly.

"Please sit," Edward motioned to the sofa as he sat in the chair he had occupied earlier. He rested his chin delicately on his bent fingers as Eric took a seat quietly across from him. It was a short moment when Edward's lazy gaze met Eric's intense eyes before he spoke. "You're an intelligent man, Eric. Intelligent but dumb."

"Excuse me?" Eric furrowed his brow, confused.

"You're book smart, but when it comes to life in the real world you're absent. No offense is meant. It's merely an observation."

Eric shook his head with a scoff of annoyance and fear. "You don't know me."

"I don't have to know you." A smile tickled Edward's lips.

"What do you want?" Eric asked.

"Tell me, what do you see in here?" Edward gestured to the space around them.

Eric studied the room briefly before speaking then said lazily, "A collection of a crazy person?"

"Don't be a smartass, Eric. I don't like that. Tell me what you see."

Silence.

Edward rose from his chair to pour Eric a small swig of bourbon. "Here," he said handing him the tumbler, "this will help you relax. You're far too _stiff_."

Edward chuckled, which confused Eric as he shakily took the offer from Edward, but he dared not drink it. The base rested in his palm as he held onto it gently with his fingertips.

"I'll tell you what I see, Eric. I see a man who has everything, yet nothing," Edward said as he circled around to the backside of the small sofa. He came to rest behind his guest.

"But it is new to me, this situation."

"What situation?" Eric asked nervously. He didn't turn around.

"Having so many guests in my house at once. I am so unsure of what to do with all of you. It is why you are all in a cell. I didn't have enough rooms."

"Where is Bella? Is she alive?"

Edward's jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth together. His hands had absently started to move toward Eric but he restrained them to his side. He moved around to his chair again.

"Bella is safe, for now, but what about you? Aren't you concerned for yourself, or for your girlfriend? Yes, I know you are. I had you mistaken last night for someone else, a coward that I've come across time and time again. It was Michael who was the coward, wasn't it?"

A brief glimpse into Edward's eyes caused Eric to look to the floor quickly. He couldn't stand looking at him. He was disgusted with him, and with himself. He should have stopped Mike when he had the chance because he knew the outcome his actions would have, and he was right. Mike's death was preventable.

"You're angry with me," Edward stated.

"I'm angry with myself. My feelings for you are something else entirely."

Edward nodded slightly in understanding. "I know the feeling. I have felt what you have felt – what you're feeling now. You want to kill me and burn this house to the ground then piss on its ashes. I have been there."

"I don't understand why you're doing this," Eric said.

Edward shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I was bored?"

Eric said nothing.

"As a matter of fact, I'm bored now, which is why you're here. I enjoy conversations. You have provided me with some entertainment," Edward paused and looked to the clock, "but I still have an hour and a half left until midnight. What do you do when you're bored, Eric?"

"Play games on my computer," he said lightly. He wondered what significance midnight held.

Edward chose to not answer his internal pondering. He pressed on with questions of his own. "What type of games?"

"I don't know… the generic ones?"

"Ever play chess?"

"Yes."

A smile stretched across Edward's face. "You look like the chess-playing type. Play a game with me."

The notion made Eric want to laugh but he didn't. He wasn't about to play a game with the man that wanted to kill him. "No," he said in a disinterested tone.

Edward's head tilted slightly and his smile faded. His head began to unravel with possibilities. "What if we played for your freedom, or Angela's freedom? Would you play then?"

Suddenly, the disinterest was wiped from Eric's face. His eyes met the killer's and held his stare. "You wouldn't let anyone go."

"I am a gentleman, and a gentleman never goes back on his word. I swear that I will set you or Angela free if you win."

"And, what if you win?"

"Then you go back into the cell with your girlfriend. What more do you have to lose?"

Eric thought about it for a moment. What did he have to lose? How could he refuse an offer such as the one that this man was giving? He was going to set him or Angela free, but why would he do that?

"Why would you be willing to set one of us free? There has to be something in it for you."

"I already told you, I'm bored," Edward said. He stood and carefully stepped over the chaotic maze of books on the floor, careful not to trample on their covers, even though he had trashed them onto the wooden floor. He pulled a glass chess set that was tucked securely away on the shelf next to jars of fingers in formaldehyde. "It's a way to pass the time and make it interesting all the same."

The coffee table between his chair and where Eric sat was littered with various contents. "Move all that stuff on the table."

Eric quickly leaned forward and began to move the contents aside, just enough room for the board. An impatient growl rumbled from Edward's throat. "Just… move it." He put his thick shoe on the table and slid everything off, including the antique vase that chipped when it hit the wooden floor.

"If you don't mind, I like playing the clear pieces," Edward said as they began to set the board up.

Eric nodded, not sure what to say as he aligned the frosted pawns.

Once they had finished, Edward gestured for Eric to open. He folded his fingers together and rested his lips on them while he waited for Eric to make the move he already knew he was going to make.

He calculated too much, but moved his first pawn from the front line. Edward followed with a knight.

The game carried on for ten minutes.

Edward grinned, and put his King in harm's way purposely. He could have had Eric in checkmate in five moves, but what would the fun be in that?

Eric froze when he saw the move, and his thoughts erupted in joy. He moved his bishop to declare checkmate.

"Checkmate," Eric said with a sharp breath. He could have jumped from his skin. He had won!

"It appears I am a bit rusty," Edward said, and laid his king down in defeat.

Eric rose from the sofa. "Now let her go."

The intensity in Eric's voice surprised Edward. "Relax, I told you I'm a man of my word. Do you want to do it now?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go to the basement and tell her the good news," Edward responded.

He led him to the basement where Angela and Jessica paced back and forth. When the wooden door opened and Eric walked through, Angela grabbed for the bars.

"Eric!" she cried. Tears perked from her lids and dripped onto her already wet cheeks. "I thought I was never going to see you again!"

She grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled at him through the cell in an attempt to get close to him in any way that she could.

Behind her, Jessica folded her arms over her stomach as pain radiated from her core at the sight. She would never get to hold Mike like that again.

"Eric won in a battle of wits for your freedom," Edward said, interrupting the moment. "I've come here to honor our agreement and set you free."

The thick air became stagnant with two-sided emotions. Angela pulled back and stared at her love partially in her arms. "What?" she questioned quietly.

"He's… letting you go," Eric said gently with hope in his voice.

"No!" Jessica screamed. "No! What about me? What about me?" She flew to the bars and stuck the front of her face between the cold metal that held her prisoner. "What about me!"

Her questioning scream echoed from the cement walls as she glared at Eric.

"Consider yourself lucky to see another day," Edward said. He pulled the keys from his pocket, shooing Eric away so that he could open the cell.

As soon as the door swung and creaked from the hinges, he closed a hand around Angela's arm and pulled her out before she had a chance to turn to her friend. Jessica attacked the bars as the cell door slammed closed.

"No, No! Don't leave me down here! Angela! Eric! Don't leave me!" she shoved her hand through and tried to grab Angela but she was out of reach. Her sodden face attracted the flakes of rust onto her skin and tore from the metal as she pulled away to go to another apart of the cell to try to grab her friend again.

Angela turned to Jessica. "I'll get help," she said quietly. "I promise I won't leave you. I promise."

Jessica rattled the bars and threw herself into the walls of the cage as Edward pulled Angela and Eric out of the room. She was left alone in the dim light of the basement. The last of her sanity left when the locks turned over from the other side.

"Please!" she continued to scream. "Please! Don't leave me!"

As they climbed the stairs from the basement door Jessica's pleads didn't fade, they became louder and turned unrecognizable. They were frightened, un-humanlike screams that held no meaning other than that of madness. It turned Angela's stomach to hear her child-hood friend make those sounds. Guilt weighed heavy in her chest as she continued to walk further away from the basement. But she would get help and bring it back. She wouldn't leave Jessica. Even the most noble thought couldn't drive away the stream of tears.

When they reached the top of the staircase, Edward opened the thick door and pulled them both through to the main level of the manor. He released them, trusting that they would follow him, and they did.

Angela reached for Eric's hand and he grasped onto it willingly as they followed behind Edward through the darkened halls. They savored the last moments they would spend before she was released. He pulled her to his side and squeezed the flesh at her waist. He wanted to remember the feel of her against him. He wanted to memorize her scent, even if it wasn't the most pleasant. There was doubt in his mind that he would ever know her in any way ever again.

It was a walk that they didn't want to end.

When they reached the door, Edward turned to the couple. They were already locked in a tight embrace and showed no signs of release.

"Are you sure of your decision?" Edward asked. "You want her to be released, and not you?"

"Yes," Eric stated with a lingering despair.

"So be it." Edward pulled the couple apart and before Eric could react, Edward had already opened the door and was hauling Angela outside into the wicked night. He tossed her to the concrete.

"You have until midnight to get as far away from the house as possible," Edward said as he smoothed the upset vest at his stomach. "When midnight comes, I'll be coming after you… or Bella… whichever one I catch first."

"You bastard!" Eric yelled and picked up a small vase nearby. He launched it at Edward, but he dodged it without looking. It shattered on the concrete near Angela, who was confused at the situation. What had just happened?

"You said you would set her free!" Eric yelled and went to attack Edward with his fists.

Edward delivered a swift kick to Eric's chest which sent him back into a small end table in the sunroom. It shattered under the weight of the boy.

Edward turned back to Angela. "Shoo, go on," he said pointing to the thick forest, then shut the door and locked it.

Eric gasped for air as he lay on his back. "You said… you'd… let her go," he heaved.

A cold hand grasped around his neck and picked him up from the rubble, his feet dangled inches above the floor. "Are you calling me a liar?" Edward hissed.

"Yes," Eric choked out against the hand closing around his windpipe.

"I did set her free. I failed to mention the conditions of her release, but nevertheless I held my word."

"Fuck… you."

Edward brought Eric's body back and slammed him effortlessly into the pile of broken wood. He picked him up again and tossed him into the wall. Eric's body went limp after the harsh impact.

The vampire smoothed his hair back away from his face and stuck his nose in the air. A deep inhale of the new air smelled faintly of fresh blood, but not much. The boy's wounds were small and would more than likely clot within thirty minutes. He was, indeed, unconscious but not for long.

Edward left Eric in the sunroom as he went for duct tape. When he returned he taped Eric's hands together, then his feet, and then placed him in a chair. He left him there as he retreated into the darkened halls once again. The time to hunt would be soon.

**=x=**

Angela ran through the forest away from the house, doing exactly as she was told. Her heart pounded but not from exertion, it was from fear; fear that she would never see Eric again, fear of what that man would do to him. She staggered over broken branches and fallen logs as she felt her way through the darkness. The moon only filtered slightly through the cloak of leaves and branches above her. She didn't recall it being so dark last night, or so silent.

Last night she had heard crickets and frogs, and they were ever present, only not as loud.

"Help!" she called over the tears then screamed, "Someone help me!"

She slowed her pace to a walk and continued for ten minutes while continuously calling out for anyone that might hear her. The campsite they had been at was nearly remote. But this place could be anywhere. She recalled being attacked at the river then waking up in the cell. She was unconscious when she was brought here. There could be houses around.

"Someone _please_ help me!"

A voice seemed to respond to her and she stopped. It came again. Was it her name being called?

"Hello?" she moved forward timidly.

The voice erupted from the bushes ahead. "Angela!"

"Bella?"

"Oh my God, Angela!" Bella said loudly and moved from the bush and towards her friend. The gown thrashed and flowed wildly around her legs. If Angela didn't know better, she would have thought she were a ghost.

The space between the two friends closed as they met in a forceful, yet relieved embrace. Angela clutched to Bella's back and held her tightly against her.

"Bella! What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"Ang, I'm so glad that you're okay! I've been out here for hours." She pulled away from her friend. "What time is it?"

The terror on Bella's face was frightening. She was crazed, wild. "I think it's almost midnight," Angela responded.

"We don't have time, Ang. He's going to be out here soon. He'll be coming after me. Come on." Bella, out of breath, began to pull Angela deeper into the woods.

"We have to get into town and find a police station. He killed Mike!"

"I know," Bella said with a sigh. She stopped and turned, grabbing Angela by the shoulders. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Angela said with no hesitation. "Why?"

"Because what I'm about to tell you is crazy, but you have to believe me, and you have to trust me, okay?"

"I'll believe you, Bella. Tell me!"

Bella took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. The words would come out wrong, or jumbled if she didn't calm down. "I'll tell you as we walk. When I woke up yesterday, I came looking for y'all. I walked forever until I reached his house. He asked me to stay the night…"

"Why?"

"Because he's a killer. He's going to kill us if we don't get help, although I'm not sure anyone can help us now." Bella swallowed her doubt and continued with her story, trying to find the right words before she spoke. "Anyways, when I woke up this morning, he asked me to spend the day with him. I was stupid, but I'm glad that I did. At least I found out where you were. This isn't the first time he's done this."

"What do you mean?" Angela asked.

"He's the reason that so many people have gone missing, I just know it."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because he showed me his library. There are heads in there, human heads! Fingers, toes, hundreds of locks of hair. Everything in his house belonged to his victims. He told me so… including this dress."

"Why are you wearing that?"

Bella shook her head and moved branches out of the way. Twigs and rocks buried into the soles of her feet, but that pain was the least of her worries now. "He gave it to me to wear to dinner. He wanted me to dress up."

Angela nearly dug her heels into the ground. "Slow down, please. I think we're far enough away that he won't catch us."

"You don't understand, Angela. He will find us." The next words out of her mouth were going to be the hardest. How could she word it? What would Angela say in response? "He's not human," was all she could say.

"Not human? Bella, what do you mean?"

"I think he's a vampire."

"Vampires don't…" Angela tried to dismiss it, but Bella cut her off.

"Don't exist, I know. But what if they did? What if vampires are real? What if he _is_ one? You have to trust me, Angela. The way that he moves and speaks, his teeth and his eyes, and the way that his face changed when he let me go a few hours ago. It wasn't human. Not to mention, he can read minds."

"You're scaring me," Angela said.

"I'm sorry, but you have to know this. He can read your thoughts. He told me what I was thinking earlier when we were at the table. He told me everything that I thought since I had been there. Everything, Ang."

"So, if he is a…vampire, then what do we do?"

Bella was relieved that Angela didn't ask anymore questions about what she knew or how she knew it. Angela had always been a skeptic of the paranormal and cryptic myths. "You're right that we need to get to the police, but there is a problem. Do you remember that big, brick wall we saw yesterday? The one that Mike took us to?"

"Yes," Angela said.

"You were right about that wall. It's meant to keep things in. He turns us lose then tells us to get as far away as possible, but we can only go as far as the wall. It's his guarantee that we don't get away, but we're going to beat him at his own game."

"That wall is like fifteen feet high. We're never going to get over it!"

"_We_ won't, but _you_ will," Bella said as she turned to her friend. "I was at that wall for an hour trying to figure out how to get over it. At one part, is a tree next to it that has a branch too high for me to reach, but if you stand on my shoulders, you could reach it and swing to the top of the wall then jump down on the other side."

"No! Bella, I can't!" Angela protested shaking her head.

"Yes, you can! I don't have shoes, and I'm in this dress! I can hold him off while you go get help. Do you still have your car keys?"

"Yes, but I can't leave you! I won't! I already had to leave Jessica. I can't leave you!"

"You have to! Don't worry about me! Come on, it's right ahead! We have to hurry!" Bella said in a hushed tone.

They continued to the wall. It seemed bigger now than it had yesterday, an impossible feat. Angela was sure she wouldn't be able to get over it and down without sustaining an injury or two. The possibilities of pain were heavy but she tried not to dwell on it. She shut her eyes on the thought to focus on the task she had to face. This was a matter of life and death. If she and her friends wanted to live it was up to her.

Bella bent her knees slightly so that Angela had a way to climb on her shoulders. "Hurry," she whispered forcefully, "he'll be out here any time now! Use my legs to get on my shoulders and raise yourself up on the tree. You'll have to climb a few more branches up, but it's possible. Just remember those trees we used to climb in middle school. This is no different."

Angela nodded and began to do what Bella had told her to do. When she was on top of Bella's shoulders she reached up and grabbed the first branch that she could reach at almost arm's length. She pulled herself up, using her feet as leverage to get on the branch fully. "I did it," she announced in a triumphant whisper.

"Good! Go ahead and climb over, I'll be here the whole time."

"Okay," Angela said with a shaky voice that was beginning to be overrun with tears, drowning her confidence. She forced herself to climb higher and higher until she could see the top of the wall. Her body protested against every move she made, but adrenaline pushed her to move forward.

The moonlight shaped the square top, but there was something else, too. Shadows rose from the top of the brick. It was an odd obscurity that she couldn't be sure of at this distance but the more she stared, the more obvious it became.

Her heart sank at the sight. There was no surface that they didn't cover. Tiny, knife-like prongs sat a-top the summit of the wall. They weren't high, but rather short to be hidden. If she was to jump on top, she would receive serious wounds.

They would pierce through the rubber soles of her shoes, and cut her flesh.

"Bella!" she whispered frantically.

"What?"

"There are sharp things sticking up on top. If I get on it, it'll cut me."

"Shit," Bella hissed.

Angela appeared at the lowest branch a minute later. When Bella had helped her back to the ground, hope faded. "What do we do?" Angela asked.

"I don't know."

"Could we hide?"

Bella shrugged. "I don't know. We have to get over that wall."

"There is no way over it. Could we go around it?"

"He's smarter than that. He wouldn't leave any part of the wall vulnerable."

"I'm so scared," Angela whispered. "We have to hide. We have to try."

Bella reached for Angela's hand and held onto it. They began to move again, unsure of their direction or where they would end up, but Bella knew no matter where they were in the woods, or how far they could get away from the house, he would find them. It was only a matter of time, and time was a luxury they didn't have.

In the distance, away from worry and burden, he stepped into the night. The air around him swirled with lost scents, but they weren't the ones he was looking for. He swallowed the air, gulped it greedily to taste the flavors. It was rich with July's honeysuckles which dangled from the vines along the wall near his manor.

The human aromas were already absent, carried away by the breeze, but they would linger on the grass and trees. He stepped down from the cement stairs after locking the door behind him and stuffing the keys into a pocket of his black slacks. The soles of his shoes were silent against the cement as he walked through his garden.

He imagined how his prey had felt as they darted across the lawn, the emotions they had, the way their body reacted to the heat. He lowered himself to the grass on his hands and knees and began to inhale the earth. His eyes fluttered violently at the scent of his prey, the freshest trail that led into the woods.

Then he surrendered.

He surrendered his mind to the hunt, and his body reacted to the change. His pupils grew; adjusting to the night. His lips pulled back from his fangs; ready to sink into the flesh of a new victim.

There was nothing that could separate him between his mouth and the blood that could cure the fire that now seared his throat. He pulled in another breath, the scent clawing at his chest, begging him to find it.

He rose from the ground, and instantly tore into the tree-line. His arms pumped at his side, propelling him forward.

He jumped over obstacles, clearing them by twenty feet.

He stepped off the trees forcefully, shaking the trunks to the peak. Savage, beastly growls shook his frame as he ran faster, stepped livelier than he ever had before.

Two victims waited for him in the night, and one would become his prey.

"Do you hear that?" Bella asked stopping mid-stride.

Angela's breath staggered. "Hear what?"

Bella readied the sturdy, thick stick she had picked up a few minutes earlier. She listened for the sound again but there was nothing but silence. There were no crickets or frogs, or nocturnal birds. She moved forward in the darkness, holding her make-shift weapon with both hands. If something came at her, she was prepared to strike at it.

She turned in every direction, searching for movement but nothing moved.

A flick of blackness in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Silence.

"Bella?" Angela whispered as the silence became even more still.

A quick movement swept Angela from her feet and to the ground beside them. He wrapped a hand around her neck and brought the girl to her feet so she could meet his eyes.

He crushed his hand around her throat, closing her lungs off to the oxygen. Her face contorted unnaturally as she already began to starve for air.

"You're bleeding," he said to her gruffly.

Bella turned. "Let go of her!"

Edward looked to her. She could almost see the red tint in his eyes, and the cruel angles on his face that countered with a smile. "No."

She charged him, the sharpest end of the stick angled at his torso. Her intent was to kill, but she was unsure if she would be able to.

Edward grabbed the end of the stick and pulled her into him. He knocked the wood away and dug his fingertips into her throat harshly.

"Wait your turn," he said against her mouth before pushing her forcefully to the ground.

He pulled Angela into him, flushing her body with his as he readied his hands around her waist, and gripped her hair, pulling it towards the ground. He stuck his nose below her ear and inhaled deeply. She squirmed more violently when she felt his chest vibrate. A low rumble, followed by a savage breath touched her ear. He moved down and allowed his tongue to touch the base of her neck. It dragged languidly up the hollow, leaving a thick, burning wetness in its wake.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the pulse in her neck throbbed in unison. She was hot, tense, and sweltered. "Ripe," Edward whispered softly against her skin.

It was in that instant that everything changed. The world around her seemed to flash brightly as a searing pain gnawed at her neck. The stars became clearer and the trees became sharper as the monster attached himself to the new lesion he created. A grip around her body became tighter, stealing the breath from her body, seizing her as still as a corpse. Her arms flailed against his shoulders and back, but they, too, became still.

She felt the dire need to scream, as if it were the right thing to do. A scream might scare this thing away, but the grip around her body refused her the right. A cry filled her ears as she felt herself slipping away from the woods.

Bella screamed at him as his fingernails clawed at Angela's waist, his mouth gaped open onto her skin as he tore into her. He burrowed his teeth into her neck further, into the cavity that he was creating with each clamp of his fangs.

Rocks and twigs dug into Bella's feet as she pushed off the ground towards the vampire. Hate propelled her forward to claw him away from her friend's body, but he was there to counter her move. He slipped his hand around her throat and squeezed. She struggled, and tried to pull his hand away with her own.

He discarded the bloody corpse on the forest floor before he slammed his new prey into a tree. Bella gasped as the action knocked the breath from her lungs. His wet, red lips were inches from her face, his breath coating her mouth.

He closed in on her face, transferring Angela's blood from his lips and cheeks to hers. He smeared it on her with his tongue and bathed her mouth in the bitter, copper liquid.

She tried to escape from his grasp, squirming from her neck down. She managed to get a hand to his hair and pulled at his long, slick strands. He merely laughed and moved his head against her force.

He liked the feeling of his hair being pulled.

She spit her friend's blood from her mouth back at her aggressor and he laughed again. His lips pulled away from his carnivorous grin that gleamed red in the leaked moonlight.

In that moment if there lay any doubt in her mind that he was human it faded. This man was not as she. The shriek of horror that was rising from Bella's chest was closed off by Edward's forceful hand. He held her tightly, pinning her against the tree so that she couldn't struggle anymore.

"You know now." She knew that he was what he said he was. His sharp tongue plowed across her cheek, coating it once again with a streak of red. A beastly growl tore from his lips at the taste of her sweltered skin. "You taste good."

_Let me go,_ Bella thought. There was no purpose in trying to speak with his hand closed around her throat.

"Now, why would I want to do that?"

_This isn't a fair fight._

Edward chuckled. "Vampire… nothing is going to be fair."

_Are you afraid that you're going to lose if you play fair?_

He slammed the back of her head against the bark and rattled her neck angrily. "I never lose at my own game."

_Then make this a fair fight if you have nothing to lose… put me down!_

Her proposal intrigued him.

Edward released his grip on her, causing her to fall to the ground harshly. She clutched at her neck, coughed, and gasped for air.

"What is it that you're proposing?" he asked.

Through her tears and shrunken windpipe she spoke groggily. "I'll never be able to out run you, but it doesn't help that I had high heels when you sent me out here."

…_I can barely walk in them in the first place…_

"Why do you want to prolong the inevitable?"

"You're scared," Bella coughed.

Edward ground his teeth together. How dare this insignificant being say that he is scared. What would he be frightened of?

"You're making a big mistake," he said. "Do you think it wise to play with a vampire?"

"No," Bella straightened up, "but it's funny as hell."

He considered her offer for a moment and searched her thoughts, but found nothing. The only lingering notion was that of a fair fight and delaying death. She wanted time.

"I will agree to your proposal. I'm feeling full for the night, anyhow. You require shoes?"

_My shoes…_

"And water," Bella added. Her eyes trailed to the body of Angela but she looked away quickly.

"Then you shall have it." Edward approached her again, backing her into the same tree. "But I want you to know, that when I find you tomorrow night, you will bleed slowly. I have a special room for those that want to delay their death, and it will know you," he hissed. "I will bathe in your blood and spit on your ashes."

He spat his venom-rich saliva in her face. She wiped the poison away quickly, knowing that the burn on her skin was unnatural.

"I do love a good fight, and you'll make things interesting, won't you? Tomorrow," he whispered. "I will enjoy finding you tomorrow."

He stepped away from her and picked up his recent kill, slinging the limp body over his shoulder. She wanted to take her from him, but the fight was useless. Before disappearing into the night, he turned to Bella one last time. "You can collect your things at the edge of the tree-line in two hours."

He was gone, fading into the black of night.

Bella's knees gave into the weight of the night. She fell to the forest floor in a heap of fabric, screams, and tears.

She cried.

She cried for Angela.

She cried for the hopeless situation.

She cried for herself. This was the end of her life. She felt it in her gut. How could she survive if a vampire was hunting her?

She knew the answer – she couldn't.

He was a predator; designed to hunt. He could smell blood yards away, he could see through the night. She would have to become a ghost, or something less desirable.

Her breath caught in her chest. A ghost… she would have to become a ghost.

She would have to beat the vampire at his own game. She couldn't outrun him, but she could outwit him.

The plan began to form in her mind. She fleshed it out in the back of the woods and left it behind her when she started towards the house again for the items she was promised. She hummed a tune in her head, thinking about the lyrics to one of her favorite songs while the buzz escaped from her lips. The last moments with Angela slipped in and she didn't bother wishing them away. She had to think about anything except for the plan. It would be executed tomorrow.

**=x=**

Edward threw Angela's body on the sofa next to where a conscious Eric sat. He hadn't been prepared to see Angela like this. The hole in her neck, her blood on her clothes, her pale face sent him sawing against the duct tape and caused him to scream against the sticky barrier at his mouth. He cursed obscenities at Edward that were too loud in his mind for him to hear.

Eric's words were a jumbled mess of anger and violence which only made Edward smile, amused at the once-calm human.

Edward stripped himself of his bloody vest and discarded it into another chair then took care in rolling up a shirt sleeve with his red fingers. Eric's tears quieted him and he lay silent in the chair, exhausted and heartbroken with grief.

Edward began to roll up the other. "When you have an infinite amount of time on your hands you become very curious about the way the world works. You become a philosopher regarding life, and death, heaven and hell. When I was younger, I cared about my victims," he said with a scoff. "I mean I _generally_ cared for them, and their souls. I had somehow convinced myself that what I had done was wrong. If you can believe any of that."

He sat down across from Eric as he unbuttoned the top button on his collared shirt. Eric watched him carefully, trying to determine what the man would do.

Edward leaned forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "Can I tell you a secret that I've never told anybody? I feel like I can confide in you to not tell your friends. You see, I used to be so torn up over taking someone's life that I would lie in the dark for days after drinking with the body, thinking that it would help me and console the lost. So, I asked a priest what I should do when I felt grief, and you know what he told me?"

Edward waited for Eric's confirmation that he was listening and continued after he gave him a brief shake of his head, _no._

"He told me that grief is a part of humanity," Edward chuckled darkly. "That it's within a human's nature to grieve or feel regret, which is true, but it didn't apply to me… human characteristics and all that. Of course, my father was an idiot. He was a horrible father, and an even worse priest. He called me a demon when I showed myself to him after my transformation. I half expected him to tell me that he could forgive me, that I'm still part of God's plan. I hated him anyhow, and killed him soon thereafter. He had planned to burn me at the stake.

"After that, I studied and researched everything I could get my hands on to try and take my mind off what I was and what I did. I came upon interesting facts about grief, would you like me to share them with you?"

Eric couldn't respond. He diverted his eyes to the floor, the tears trickling between his cheeks and the silver tape, but his thoughts were ever present on Angela.

"I think I'll share them with you because," Edward smiled, "I have a feeling you're going to need this advice. I'll be right back." He slapped Eric on the knee and left the room swiftly. He came back a few minutes later carrying a large serving tray and a fondue set. His hands and face were still coated in blood.

Eric eyed the display in his arms as Edward sat it on a table next to the chairs. "Food is a common cure for grief," Edward explained as he began to set up the items. "Have you ever noticed that humans tend to eat when they are upset? It's like an automatic trigger; it makes them feel better after they eat something, like it will help solve all their problems."

He sat down in the chair again and pushed his thick hair from his face, smoothing it to his scalp. "I want to help you grieve, Eric, because I feel for you, I really do."

Edward reached over and grabbed the edge of the duct tape on Eric's mouth and ripped it off.

"Goddammit!" Eric screamed. "You're a fucking psycho!"

"That's not very nice," Edward pointed, and discarded the tape on the floor after folding it.

"Fuck you."

"I'm trying to help you, and you're spitting it back in my face."

"If you're going to kill me, then get it over with."

"They'll be plenty of time for that, Eric. I've got all night."

Edward pulled a knife off the silver tray which caused Eric to flinch and adjust against his bounds.

The vampire smiled sharply. "Tell me, Eric, have you ever studied anthropophagy?"

"What?"

"I take it you have never heard that term before, but I assure you, you have. You see, the Wari' Indians of the Amazonian rain-forest were quite keen on how to deal with mourning a loved one. They literally ate their grief."

_Ate their grief?_

"Yes, Eric. They believed that it was the highest form of honor and compassion to roast their dead and consume them. I don't exactly have the patience for slow-roasting, but hot oil should work just as well."

The knife gleamed in the dim light as he reached over toward Angela and carved a chunk of flesh from her calf. He held his free hand under the dripping flesh, catching the shards of crimson that fell. His eyes widened at the sight of the juice then he sucked it off his hand as he dropped the bit onto the silver tray.

Eric gagged and nearly came undone at the sight. His stomach fluttered violently as Edward stabbed the meat with the prong and lowered it into the hot oil that bubbled in the fondue pot.

"Open up," Edward said with a grin as he raised the hot, cooked meat from the oil.


	7. Fey

**C.6  
****Fey**

| . . . : . . . |

Her hand wandered to her neck as she absently stroked her throat. She could still feel his vice grip closing around her. But there was something else that was even more real and haunting than the phantom hand cutting off the air to her lungs; the taste of her friend's blood still lingered on her lips and tongue.

The radical flavor of the thick vital fluid wasn't there, but the bitter, metallic aftertaste was constant. It adhered to her cheeks and the tiny places between her tongue and teeth. She would have to wash it out with water to be rid of it.

Bella hated herself. She did nothing to stop him. She sat by and watched him devour her friend.

She did nothing.

It was the thought that plagued her, ridiculed her.

It was the thought that told her she was a horrible friend, and deserved to be in Angela's place.

_It shouldn't have been her, it should have been me_, she thought.

Her eyes burned with hot tears and exhaustion as she walked to the tree line, where the items she requested were to be dropped off.

The woods cracked around her. Twigs and branches settled to the foliage-covered floor. She shivered but this time not only from fear, but from the cold. Even in the hot months of July, the early mornings in Georgia were sometimes chilly, and that morning was no exception.

_Hadn't the world already been cruel enough?_, she thought.

But it was not the world that had delivered her into the hands of death. Fate, whether it existed or not, could only lead a person so far until they make the conscience decision on how it ends. Bella unknowingly chose to die when she entered and stayed in Edward's house, and she knew this now. What if she had chosen to force an exit when he asked her to eat dinner?

What if she had bypassed his house completely? How would this end if she had not of rung his doorbell?

But she knew that the option did not exist.

She would have stopped anywhere to use a phone. She would have called the police, and that person, that human, would not have stopped her. They would have encouraged it, even if they knew there was nothing that could be done until later. After all, missing persons aren't missing until a substantial amount of time had passed.

But _what if_ wasn't the only thought that was with her and the phantom hand.

A voice haunted her; a voice too real and undying to let go – Jake's.

He had asked her to be safe.

She reached the clearing and stepped out onto the lawn behind the house. She wasn't lined up with the backdoor, but more to the side. She scanned the grass to see if she spotted any odd shapes. She did.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and moved with ease across the soft, cool, well-manicured lawn. The blades tickled her feet and the soil sank beneath her heels, springing her back when all her weight was down.

Her own shoes and a bottle of water waited for her. She fell to the ground and instantly opened the water. She took measured sips, careful not to over-divulge in what she craved the most. The water, although not enough to satiate her thirst, relieved her somewhat.

She sighed as she pulled the mouth of the bottle away from her lips and screwed the lid back on.

She didn't know if she would be able to keep the liquid in her stomach. She felt nauseated. She couldn't escape it.

Death haunted her, filled her every movement.

Angela.

She was all she could see, and nothing could draw here from the horrific images.

She was alone in her thoughts of blood and death, of monsters and men.

She closed her eyes tightly, straining to block them out, but the images were persistent.

_He had wrapped his hand around her throat and said, "You're bleeding."_

The words had meant something now, and wouldn't desist. They echoed repeatedly, caught in an empty mirror of confusion.

"She was bleeding," Bella said aloud. "That is why he found her so quickly."

The moment communicated through time, and it was suddenly relevant to Bella's plan she had formed a short while ago.

_It wouldn't be enough to mask my scent_, she thought. _I'll have to give it to him, but in a form he won't be able to resist._

"I'll have to bleed."

**=x=**

She had given up hope. She had allowed the darkness to settle into her heart, and linger in her mind. She was going to die. She didn't lie to herself now as she sat alone. Jessica brought her knees to her chest in agony. It was the first time in her life that she had felt this way; the torture of the truth. A hole had been ripped inside her chest, leaving her empty and broken.

She missed Mike. It was like missing air. It choked her, and she gasped at the torn memories in the darkness.

The sound of the door unlocking caught her attention. She expected to see a large figure appear through the frame, but was disappointed to see the other man – the creepy one, the killer – walk through. She had thought of many names for him.

Her distaste for this man was beyond her comprehension. He was Mike's killer. Even if he had never told her, she would have known. The way his eyes would shift, the fall of his footsteps – confident, yet light - and the tone in his voice when he spoke was unnerving. They were the movements of a murderer.

He carried something in his hand as he stepped into the same room with her.

She pushed herself off the cold floor and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

Jessica wasn't the person for violence, she never condoned it, but the hate she felt at the sight of him, the anger for what he did, was almost her undoing. She wanted to reach through the bars and strangle him.

He smiled at her thoughts. He wanted to test her, to push her to the limits of sanity. He knew how she felt down here alone. He had been listening to her thoughts from the top of the stairs for a couple of hours. Mostly, she had been thinking about her dead boyfriend, Mike.

Even though it was no longer morning, he had prepared a small plate of breakfast food for her, including the leftovers from last night.

He set the small plate on the stool next to the open door.

"Still grieving I see. I had forgotten how delicate death is," he said.

His hands still held a small tint of blood. Only time could rid his skin of such an enormous amount after it had soaked into his pores. But he enjoyed it, the feel of it.

Jessica said nothing as she watched his fingers bend around each other. The tint of red against other flashes of pale skin did not go unnoticed.

"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I've taken the liberty of putting a plate together for you. My servant is otherwise engaged in his chores; otherwise he would have done it. That being said, I must apologize. My culinary skills are quite poor."

She _was_ hungry, but didn't feel much like eating, especially anything that _he_ cooked.

"No thank you," she said sternly yet quietly, holding his gaze.

"It's rude to not accept something from a host. It's considered disrespectful," he said.

"I don't have to accept anything from you. You killed Mike," she said. The words burned her chest and weakened her limbs. A new wave of tears stung her nose.

"Only a little," he responded with a slight shake of his head, and then took an unnecessary breath. "He killed himself, really. You were there, you remember."

She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to see the images again, but with his words the filter broke and the memory seeped as it stretched over her mind. When he was brought back to he basement, he was already dead and covered in blood. The blood was the most difficult to forget. His contorted face and the paleness of his skin were unnatural; his body ridding itself of the vital fluid through the gashes and holes that had been created.

"You remember it very well," he whispered.

She hugged herself tighter, as if she could shield herself from his words. She wondered how he knew what he did. Were her face or expressions that easy to read?

"I can tell you something," he said to her gently but without heart. "It might make you feel better."

He stepped closer to the cell, watching Jessica back away from him. She wasn't taking any chances.

"When I was born, for the second time, I was given a special gift. Upon waking, I realized that I heard voices, thoughts, other than my own."

This intrigued Jessica. What did he mean the second time?

"You can imagine the kind of power one could have. No one could lie to me. There wasn't a secret that could be hidden. And as time went on and killing humans became routine I noticed patterns in the thoughts of those about to die. They always thought of the ones they loved the most.

"A husband would want nothing more than to see his wife again. A wife, her husband. A mother, her child. Sometimes there was more than one face in their blood. And sometimes, there was nothing at all. Those that were at a loss for love never saw anyone. But… that was always exceptionally rare. You would think that a person would have someone to love."

He paused to allow her to process the information.

"Mike, was one of those rare humans. Right before he died, when he was running for his life like a coward, he thought of nothing but himself. His only thought was that he didn't want to die, even though he knew he would. I never saw your face in those moments... not once. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Jessica shook her head.

"You should be thankful that I got rid of him for you. I did you a favor from making the biggest mistake of your life, not that it would really matter anyhow."

"You're crazy," she said.

"I am not crazy... just insightful."

"So, you're going to just kill me?"

"Yes," he answered simply, resting his forehead against the bars.

"Why are you doing this? I mean, I don't understand."

He released the bars and stepped around to the side of the cell, wanting to make her heart flutter in fear. He was successful.

"There are things in this world Jessica that you will not understand. Yes, you will die. That's all you need to know."

_Die_.

The word held so much meaning. Her mind began to race with possibilities, and he allowed them to fester for a moment before continuing.

"So, would you like to hear how you will die?"

"No," she said. "You won't get your chance. Angela is going for help, and when it comes they're going to lock you away forever."

"No one is ever coming for you. By the time you're reported missing, your body will already be out of my furnace and on its way down the stream to the Chattahoochee."

A sneer stretched his lips across his teeth. "Your last moments will be spent staring into the shadows, wondering when I'll be coming for you. You're going to think about your death, and even picture it. You're going to worry about the pain you'll feel; the thing that you fear the most… and I'll be listening."

She sniffled and her esophagus closed for a moment from the stress.

He silently stepped to the door. "If you knew time as well as I did, you wouldn't want to waste it on petty things such as Michael Newton."

He left her there in the darkness to cry and putrefy without a second glance at the food or water he had left on the stool.

**=x=**

Bella spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon searching the ground for a rock with a serrated edge. She finally found one that was sharp enough to do both tasks she had to complete.

She shredded the skirt of the white dress, cutting it off far above the knees. Instantly her legs felt cooler, but now she felt like a ballerina with a poor excuse of a tutu. She sighed, tucked a thick piece of fabric into her bra, and then splashed a small amount of water on the rock to clean the edge. She took a deep breath. It wouldn't take much to draw blood, but she wasn't looking forward to the pain.

She pressed the edge to her palm, breathed deeply, and then began to push the point into her flesh. Her eyes squeezed shut against the deep, gnawing pain that awoke the nerves in her hand.

She ground her teeth together as she pushed harder to force the rock to tear her skin. A growl escaped her lips, then a bellowing cry.

"Come on," she said between her clenched teeth, and pushed the edge harder.

A new burn throbbed, followed by a sharp pain that tore across her palm

She cried out then breathed. A tear escaped from her lid.

Thick blood seeped from the large, new opening, pulsing into the afternoon air. The rock fell from her hands and she held out her unscathed palm to catch the falling drops of the one thing that would send the predator running once he caught the scent.

Bella smeared the blood on trunks of trees, starting near the tree-line and working her way to the wall.

She squeezed her wrist and her hand, coaxing out more blood; it was more than willing to supply it.

She slung it around her into the bushes, onto the forest floor, but mostly onto the wall. She slung it high onto the bricks and onto the tree that Angela had climbed.

She closed her eyes at the thought of her and allowed her soiled hand to linger on the bark.

"I'm so sorry, Ang," she said to the memory while fresh tears crept down her face. Her new wound wasn't the only thing that ached. Her chest burned with guilt.

She finished marking the trees then washed of her hand with a splash of water. She wrapped it up in the large piece of fabric she had saved.

Several yards away from where she placed the final smear of blood, Bella calmly sat on the ground and poked underneath the grass. The soil was soft enough to dig into with a few sticks.

With one final swig from the bottle, she poured the rest into the hole she had dug in the ground. She worked diligently as she applied the moistened dirt over every inch of her bare skin, and then worked on the remains of her clothes. It stuck to her well.

"Ghost," she smiled slightly.

It was her hope that her scent would be masked by the mud, and Edward would be distracted by the drops of blood she left all through the woods. Too distracted to notice she had moved away from where the drops ended. It would make sense to leave traces of what he wanted most and while he searched for her, she could make her way back into the house to find Eric and Jessica.

She didn't believe Emmett would be a problem due to his lack of hearing, but if she was spotted by him she would fight. One man would not ruin her chance of escape if she had gotten that far, if the plan even worked.

Bella was worried about Edward's ability, though. Would he hear her as she hid close to the tree line? How close did he have to be to read her thoughts? She was uncertain, and that was her biggest fear. Only her thoughts would betray her location. The mud wouldn't have to last long, just long enough to hide her scent so she could walk to her hiding place.

She covered the hole she dug with twigs and made her way to where she would wait for the rest of the day. The air was surprisingly nice. The cover of trees kept her cool, and the new condition of the skirt made her even cooler.

She made sure to not touch any of her surroundings; the only contact was her shoes against the ground.

She ducked down into the thick brush, contemplating sleep but deciding against it. She had to be alert when he appeared outside of his house. If she looked away for one second then the plan would fail and he would find her.

Her heart raced at the potential danger that would come in a few hours. The heavy swishing of her pulse rang through her ears. It was the only sound that seemed to have any meaning – a heartbeat; proof that life still existed within her. The more it rang, the more she wanted to live, the more she wanted to get out of this alive and salvage any last ties that she may have lost with Angela's death.

**=x=**

Night had fallen slowly. The darkness crept gently over the blue sky, replacing the vibrant hues with a mass of stars and their hopeful twinkles.

Edward pulled the curtains closed in his darkened library, cutting off the moonlight and the iridescent stars. They were almost too bright for his sensitive eyes, holding color that no mortal could behold.

He cared not for their brilliance. He never cared for things that he could not touch with his own hands, or feel with his own lips.

He cared for blood, and the boundless thirst that consumed him. He was a slave; a servant to the means of his existence. Even now, he could not rid himself of it.

The gush of fluid last night was enough to hold over the desire for a short time, but it wasn't nearly enough. The blood was thin, and his body absorbed it too quickly.

Edward ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, swiping away the thick coat of venom that had clung to the rock-like enamel; a tell-tale sign that his body was ready for more.

He swallowed the pool that had formed quickly.

Thinking about his thirst produced more and more of the venom. His throat, the pain that he felt in a sudden shift, grated on his nerves. It flared in protest against the lack of blood. It was becoming dry, and it nearly drove him mad with tenacious hunger.

This made him even more agitated, and he began to pace. He carelessly stepped on his books, the human thing he treasured most. He grew quite aware that he would later regret their destroyed state, and he attempted to right the situation.

He threw them to one side of the room. Their screams of fluttering pages told him that he had betrayed them and for a moment he regretted how he had handled them.

"I'm sorry," he said to the book-favored side of the room. That's all he could say before a flare lit his throat, taking it up in flames along with the last of his patience.

He didn't know how much longer he would be able to wait.

He contemplated on serving Jessica her death now. It would be satisfying to feel her gush into his mouth.

But the hunt!

The anticipation of finding a treasure in the dark would be first. It was what he had waited for all day. It was what he lived for.

The hunt, then torture.

Bella wanted time and she would have it. She would be mounted on the wall, tied by rope or hooks as he bit into her. He imagined how and where he would bite her so she could have her precious time.

The wrist was always ideal. A small bite would produce just enough blood.

Her neck, just under her ear, would bear his mark. It was always the hottest there.

He imagined stripping her of her clothing and watching the juice flow between her breasts.

The teasing shades of red against her fair skin; it would be a beautiful sight to behold.

She would seep slowly, her blood collecting in buckets, while she watched her last friend die in front of her. All of her pain and emotions would run free, and he would savor every drop.

Yes, she would have her precious time.

He tore himself from the misshapen room and into the dark halls of his manor. Not a single movement caught his attention as he made his way to the back door.

The vampire burst into the night, and didn't waste anytime breathing in the fresh air.

No human scents.

He ran to the tree line, knelt, and then stuck his nose into the grass.

Bella's scent was faint, but it was there. She had picked up the items and retreated back under the cover of the trees. His eyes grew dark with anticipation. He would enjoy hunting her.

He rose from the ground.

His nerves were calmed slightly now that he had taken in a breath of her scent. He walked quickly, taking care to not run. He wanted to preserve this anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Preservation sank.

The world lit up with unimaginable imagery, yet the shadows became darker.

His body tensed as his senses absorbed a familiar, wonderful smell. It shuddered and his mind was overcome with a frantic need.

His pace quickened.

His vision sharpened, and he was at a tree trunk, inhaling the bark with long, drawn out breaths.

"She's bleeding," he said gruffly against the strain of his tight, dry throat.

The time to think was not with him.

Time, had in fact, quickened. The seconds could no longer be wasted and there existed no such thing as savoring the moment – the moments had already passed him by.

He pushed off the balls of his feet and leaped into the darkness. His search led him from tree to tree. It only took him a moment to inhale the new trace of her blood that called to him.

It was all around, the beckoning of a sweet entity that he would soon drink. The flames no longer lingered in his throat; his arms and chest began to feel the burn, his body drying from his overexertion.

He needed the blood.

The pain was intolerable as he pushed harder into the trees, bounding from the trunks.

As he expected, the search had led him to the wall, but she wasn't there. There was no thought around him other than his own; no voice to hint at where a human was hiding in the darkness.

He touched the cool bricks.

She had been here.

He stepped back and sniffed the tree that held droplets of her essence.

She had been on the tree.

He studied the branches, their curve and the length. If she had made it up the trunk, she could easily swing onto the wall, but not without injury.

He climbed the tree with ease and ran across the branch, stepping too quickly to weigh it down.

Edward leaped over the wall, landing on the other side. His presence interrupted the lives of the animals in the vicinity. The vibrations in the air changed, static with danger; they knew a predator was near.

He stuck his nose to the ground to search for her again.

Nothing; no blood, or oddity.

He inhaled the air but it smelled of forest life. She had _not_ been here.

The hunted had outwitted the hunter.

**=x=**

It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had slept. She was tired, but forced herself to stay awake. She kept telling herself that Jessica's and Eric's life depended on it. Their lives depended on her watching for Edward to emerge from his house.

And it did.

But as she watched the same spot for hours her mind grew quiet, her thoughts ceasing to carry on with the mission. The forest grew murky as her eyes grew heavy with persistence to close.

But it did not stay that way for long.

A loud bang startled her awake. Before she had the chance to wonder what made the noise, Bella's mind went black and thoughtless as he emerged from the backdoor of his house. She pressed herself into the forest floor, peeking through the shrubbery as he stuck his face into the ground.

She took calm breaths and was careful to not think of anything as he lifted himself and walked into the trees.

He would find what she left there, and hoped it would fuel the hunt.

She carefully lifted herself from the foliage and stepped out onto the lawn, watching for any signs of movement.

She ran faster than she ever had in her life, pushing her tired legs and body to carry on.

As she neared the house, she noticed that the door was standing wide open. She silently thanked God and trembled as she set foot on the stairs that led to the back sun-room.

She kept her hands by her side as she entered, not touching the door or the frame as her dirtied body and dress slid into the house.

Inside the manor, it was cold and smelled odd, stranger than it had before. It was no stale. A stench lingered in the air, like an unappetizing meal had been cooked.

Adrenaline flooded her veins, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. She had to work fast to find Jessica and Eric so they could get out the front door and away from this horror of a place. But where would they go from there? They certainly couldn't run to town.

She stepped through the house guardedly, but swiftly. Where would he have taken Jessica and Eric? Heavy footsteps approached which caused her heard to sink. She was panicked and searched for somewhere to hide, but it was too late.

A large hand grabbed her at the shoulder.

She tried to fight it off, but stopped once she realized Emmett was shushing her with his finger over his mouth. He put both of his hands in front of him, a gesture of surrender or _I'm not going to hurt you_.

Bella took a step back, confused. What was he doing?

He was frantic. He tried to sign to her, but stopped, perhaps realizing that she didn't understand what he was trying to say.

He mouthed something quickly but the movement escaped Bella.

She furrowed her brow and shook her head. She didn't understand.

Emmett let out a thick sigh.

He started to move down the hall and motioned for her to follow him.

She did, and wasted no time. There wasn't a bad feeling, or a twinge in her stomach to warn her of potential danger. There was something trusting about the smiles they had exchanged before. She trusted him.

After walking down a long hall, he opened the door to a dark stairwell leading down to the basement. He held out his hands in front of him again then pulled a key out of his pocket.

He flew down the stairs. His footsteps were heavy and quick.

A moment later he returned pulling Jessica up behind him. Bella's heart fluttered with relief and excitement and as soon as Jessica was up the stairs Bella pulled her friend in for a hug.

Jessica, already sodden with sobs, sputtered and began to cry even harder. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her clothes were dirty.

But the most noticeable feature was the stench that rolled off her body. Rot and feces were horrid by themselves but when combined it made Bella gag.

She pushed Jessica away. "Where's Eric?"

Jessica shook her head. "I saw him last night. He was with that guy. He left with him... and never came back... why are you wearing that dress?"

"We have to leave," Bella said in a hushed tone. "We have to leave, now!"

"We can't leave Eric," Jessica responded as they started to hasten down the hall. Emmett followed.

Bella closed her eyes tightly. The words forming in her head hurt, but she knew they were true. "Eric is dead, Jess... so is Angela."

"No! He let Angela go," Jessica responded. "She can't be…"

Her chest tightened. "He let her go so he could..." Bella couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't bring herself to think of Angela's death again. It was always on her mind, but saying it aloud was another demon entirely.

Emmett placed a hand on Bella's arm, and held up his hands once again to tell them to stop, perhaps wait. He ran into the kitchen.

"I don't understand," Jessica said as she folded her arms across her stomach.

Bella shook her head. She didn't understand either, not really.

Just then, a loud bang rang through the halls. Its echoed sentiments were hollow and angry, and hit Bella's heart with a heavy burden. Her eyes widened at the unmusical notes.

"What was that?" Jessica asked looking around.

"Come on." Bella pulled Jessica into a run.

Jessica staggered behind, her weight was heavy on Bella's arm then it was suddenly ripped away with a terrifying scream.

Bella turned to see Edward holding Jessica, peering from behind her head, her eyes were wide with horror.

It was the same situation that she had seen nearly twenty-four hours ago; the monster poised in a strike position.

Edward glanced over her appearance; muddy from head to toe, the dress covered in dirt.

"So, the prey has evolved," he said gently. "I'm impressed, Bella, but I hope you wiped off your feet before you came into my house."

"Let her go," Bella said.

Jessica whimpered.

"We've done this before," Edward said as he shuffled his feet toward Bella, pushing Jessica forward with his body. "We were in this exact position last night when you spoke those words. I didn't listen to you then, what makes you think I'll listen to you now?"

"Because I have something that you want."

"Not anything different than what I can take from your friend here." He placed a sharp, finger-nailed hand over her cheek and stroked it carefully with a gleaming smile.

It wasn't going to happen again!

Bella launched herself at Edward, grabbing at his face, his hair, his clothes; what ever she could get her hands around.

He knocked her to the ground with a stiff hand.

Bella gathered herself off the floor and stood erect. She went at him again but he knocked her away like she was a pesky fly.

"I'm glad you'll get to see this," Edward directed towards her as she tried to lift herself off the floor. "Another friend... dead in front of you."

Bella gasped for air. He had hit her chest, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs.

There was a silence that had overcome the room. The breathing was stinted, and the heartbeats grew quiet. In their place, there was a clicking sound that only lasted for one second. It was a sound that Bella had heard before; many times before.

And then, it happened all at once. Edward's ears and eyes became aware of what was behind him, what was pointed at him.

The unmistakable sound of a trigger being pulled.

The bullet loading in the chamber; its exit – an explosion – as it left the barrel.

He stepped to the left and pushed Jessica directly in its path.

It struck her low in her right shoulder, and then she crumpled to the floor, falling out of Edward's arms. She cried in pain and put a hand over the entry wound.

Emmett lowered the gun and his mouth gaped open, his chest heaved with guilt at what he had done – what he had not meant to do.

"Emmett, you're a horrible shot," Edward said with a smile even though the deaf man couldn't hear him.

His servant had finally grown a pair, and while this pleased Edward, it also angered him. The smell of blood in the air, the sweet perfume was tempting and nearly pushed him over the brink of bloodlust.

But there was one thing he had to attend to first before he could enjoy his desserts.

His movements sounded like wind whipping between two objects, and before Emmett could take a running step, Edward was already in front of him, heaving his hands into his chest.

Emmett's feet left the floor while the gun left his hand with force and landed behind Edward.

He watched Emmett soar across the kitchen and hit the back wall. He went for him again, wanting to push him into unconsciousness but careful to not cause fatal injury. Emmett was, after all, one of his most prized possessions. He was the only human that he had ever come across who was immune to his power.

Scrambled words floated around him, but he couldn't make out the mess of thoughts as he was about to attack his servant once again. They belonged to Jessica, or Bella, may be both.

Then, the scene was too clear in his mind.

He turned slowly, peering over his shoulder at first to the image that had developed behind him.

Her teeth were showing, a scowl angling her eyes into points of fury. She raised her arms, her injured hand supporting the other that carried a tool of destruction.

_He may be a horrible shot, but I'm not_, Bella thought.

Her father had taught her well.

The hunter was frozen in disbelief and misjudgment as she aimed the barrel. She squeezed the trigger.

The bullet loaded in the chamber; its exit – an explosion – as it left.

It found a home, nestled in the vampire's eye socket. He fell back in a slump, his limbs motionless as he hit the floor.

He didn't get back up.

Bella released the breath she had taken before firing the weapon. Her head fell and she lifted the black gun to study it once more, knowing instantly who it belonged to: Mike.

She knelt beside Jessica who was still squirming in pain.

"Are you okay, Jess?" she asked.

"Someone shot me," she responded.

"You're going to be okay," Bella said reassuringly. "We need to get you to a hospital. Come on, you need to stand up."

"I don't think I can. It hurts."

"I know, but you need to. We have to get out of here."

Limp, uneven footsteps advanced towards the girls with a slight jingle sounding around them.

A pair of keys dangled in front of Bella's face. She looked up at Emmett, who was holding them gently in his hands. His face was scratched, his nose and mouth leaking blood. His eyes spoke of his pain and his exhaustion.

He gestured for her to take them by moving the keys softly, and she did with a grin that only teased the corner of one eye.

He leaned down on the other side of Jessica and picked her up. He groaned under the strain of her weight, pushing his new internal wounds from pain to side-splitting agony.

He breathed through it and huffed as Jessica wrapped an arm around his neck. Bella stood and quickly walked behind them as they went through a part of the house she was not familiar.

Emmett stopped in front of a door which Bella quickly unlocked and opened. It was dark inside this room, and smelled of rubber. She found the switch right beside the door and flicked it on.

It was a garage full of new, shiny, mostly-black cars; among them, a single red convertible. She pressed the unlock button on the remote. A car flashed its lights and the doors unlocked.

She realized then that her clothes were still in the room she had stayed in and she could run and grab them, but she didn't want to go back in the house. She wanted to be as far away as possible, for her sake and for Jessica's.

She opened the back door of the Mercedes so Emmett could lay Jessica down. He groaned and huffed again as he placed her in the backseat. He bent her knees so he wouldn't close the door on her feet then stepped back away from the car.

Bella opened the driver's side door, and turned back to Emmett.

"Come on," she said, and gestured with her hand. She wanted him to get in and go with her.

He grinned, jutted a thumb towards the door, and shrugged his shoulders.

Her frame sank as she realized what he meant. He wasn't coming.

She understood, or at least she thought. Perhaps he had things he had to get, or things he had to do before he left. There were more cars, and he could follow once he was finished, but she felt bad for leaving him here by himself, with the body of that thing still in the house, but she had no choice; Jessica needed a hospital.

_Thank you_, she mouthed.

He nodded once, a slight bow as though it appeared. His eyes were soft with kindness, something she was sure he had to mask for a long time.

Bella turned her back to him and slid into the car. The cool leather felt nice against her legs as she sank into the seat.

Emmett was already pushing an illuminated button which raised the garage door.

He watched her pull away and down the drive before he closed the door to the house, sealing himself inside with the unconscious vampire.

He knew the gun wouldn't kill him, only distract. He didn't know if Bella had a stroke of luck by penetrating his eye, the softest place on his body, but he was relieved. It would give him the time that he would need to kill Edward, the only way that a vampire could be destroyed.

He recalled discussing the specifics with him one day, thinking it was some _Lord of the Rings_ bullshit. Edward had told him that fire was his maker, and it was the only thing that could destroy him.

And into the fire he would go.

Emmett pulled out a lighter from a kitchen drawer, and then ventured into the library to retrieve the brandy that Edward kept.

He poured a small amount of the flammable liquid onto the grand piano and lit it. The wood caught flame and a sea of fire came to life, sending heat blazing into the house.

He could feel it on his cold skin as he lied motionless on the floor.

_Into the fire he would go_.

* * *

**Big thanks to Luna Starfire who helped me flesh out the pieces to this chapter. She's awesome!**

**Song: _I'm Not A Hero,_ composed by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard**

**(A very strong instrumental that is perfect for the intense hunting scene.)**

**=x=**

**_Fey_ (the chapter title) means "doomed; destined to die".**


	8. Poisoned Devils

Thank you so much for reading and going on this lil' adventure with me. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I *may* post outtakes, but I'm very unsure of when that will be. If I do, it will still be in this story. JSYK.

- Raggdolly

* * *

**C.7  
****Poisoned Devils**

| . . . : . . . |

Bella leaned back in the metal chair as she sniffled silently. Her tears found her once again as she concluded her story.

Chief Hale pulled a tissue from the Kleenex box, which sat on the edge of the table next to him, and offered it to her. She took it gently, her hands shaking, then blotted away the tears and mucus from her soiled face. She took up a Styrofoam cup in front of her and finished the last sip of water, barely able to swallow it.

Hale lit his third cigarette. The smoke curled wildly in the air. "So... that's it?"

Bella nodded.

He nodded in return then sat forward, leaning on the table. "And... the car outside; who does it belong to?"

"We took it from his house. It's his." Her voice wavered.

"I see. Miss Swan, listen. I have no doubt that something happened, but in order to understand the entire story, I must ask you… before the incident occurred… had you or your friends been drinking, or using drugs of any kind?"

She shook her head and stared at the table, as if she were trying to remember. "We drank a few beers the first night we were out there, but that's all."

"How many did you have?"

"I don't remember."

"And do you drink often?"

"Occasionally."

Jasper scribbled onto his notepad.

Bella's eyes narrowed in confusion then she shook her head lightly, balling her hands into fists. Her words were angry. "I'm not lying, and I wasn't seeing things! I wasn't drunk!"

He looked up, his shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. "I'm not doubting that something happened, ma'am. I am, however, doubting what it is you claim has taken the life of three of your friends."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know," he said. "That's why I'm trying to get the whole story."

"I told you everything." She was defeated, tired.

The Chief sighed as Bella hung her head, cradling her forehead in the palms of her hands. Her whole body began to shake as she convulsed into tears once again. She was clearly distraught. Something was not right about this situation.

There was something that she was not telling, or something that he was missing. She wasn't in her right mind. "Excuse us for a minute, Miss Swan," he said rising out of his chair. He smothered his cigarette into the ash tray then made for the door. Demetri followed closely behind him.

They left Bella in the room alone to cry.

Jasper stared at the floor, confused.

"I don't believe her," Demetri said finally.

"Yeah. Something's off," Jasper responded, agreeing with him.

"We need to talk to the other girl. Now."

"I know."

"What hospital was she taken to?"

"Habersham."

"Let's go now. I'll drive," Demetri said.

"We can't just leave her here. She's not in the condition to be alone."

"What do you expect us to do? She's obviously lying about something." Demetri huffed and rolled his eyes. "We actually do real detective work at the GBI, Chief. Now, I know that's not something that you're used to, but it's how we get answers. It's how things get done. I'll drive." With a quick turn of his heel he made towards the front door.

Jasper silently cursed at the universe for sending him the most insensitive bastard he had ever met as he stepped slowly to the front desk, where a lovely, middle-aged woman was sitting. She adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and lifted a paper closer to her face.

"Mrs. Cope?"

"Yes, Chief Hale?" she asked, placing the paper back on the desk with a slight grin.

"Detective Demetri and I are going to the hospital to question the other girl that came in with Miss Swan this morning. Will you please sit with her until her father gets here? I don't want her to be left alone right now."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Cope said. She rose out of her seat and tugged on the hem of her shirt.

He pulled a small, plastic cup from the desk and held it out as the woman passed. "Give her some more water, too, please?"

"Of course."

Just as Jasper turned from the front desk to the front lobby doors Mrs. Cope spoke again, urgently. "Oh, Chief Hale! The information you requested came in a few minutes ago. It's on the desk. I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's fine. Thank you."

The paper with furious black ink was easily spotted; an unmistakeable fax with fresh smudges extending the letters slightly.

**Make: ...Mercedes**

**Model: ...CL63 AMG**

**Year: ...2009**

**VIN: ...SNST6387U91228148**

**Current Owner: ...Jameson Jenks**

**Previous Owners: ...N/A**

**Address: ...344 Delphic Court, Macon GA**

The information was scarce but told enough to cause Jasper's thoughts to spin. Another lead, or suspect. Who was Jameson Jenks, and why was his car outside the station, driven by Bella, if he lived over three hours away from Helen? Was it stolen? Questions began to collect in Jasper's mind as he left the building and climbed into the black SUV that waited in the parking lot.

"You'll have to give me directions," Demetri said.

"Turn right out of here and follow this road to the Unicoi Turnpike."

"I don't know where the fuck that is." His tone was aggressive.

"I'll let you know when to turn," Jasper responded, keeping his voice calm.

"So, do you believe her?"

"I believe that something happened to them in the woods, but it wasn't a goddamn vampire, that's for sure." Jasper stared out the window in concentration. He was sure that someone or something had assaulted Miss Swan and her friends while they were camping. Her soiled clothes and broken psyche told him that. "It could have been anything," he added.

The ride was quiet. Neither men knew what to say as they rode the twenty-five minutes to Habersham County Hospital.

When they arrived Demetri and Jasper flashed their badges then asked to see Miss Stanley.

"Has she said anything," Demetri asked tucking his GBI identification into his inner jacket pocket.

The blond nurse hung her head slightly, distressed. "She's been upsetting the ER patients all morning. We had to give her something to calm her down."

"Has—she—said—anything?" Demetri asked again, but slower and louder as if the nurse didn't understand the question the first time.

She cringed slightly, taken back by his attitude. "Nothing that we can understand."

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked.

"She was screaming," she said, "and mumbling about someone. We couldn't get her to calm down so we could take the bullet out of her shoulder, so we gave her a sedative. She's doing okay now, but she's in and out of sleep."

"We need to speak with her," Demetri said with urgency.

She agreed and led them through the ER into a small room where a girl was lying still under the stiff, hospital-grade sheets.

"When the paramedics brought her in this morning she was covered in blood."

"I heard earlier from a third-shift officer that she looked bad off but not critical," Jasper said quietly. "Single gun-shot wound to the right shoulder?"

"Yes," the nurse confirmed. "If there is anything else I can help you with, let me know."

The nurse backed out of the room and left, but not before adding, "She may not talk much."

The sound of the door shutting against the frame was loud, probably louder than the woman had intended. The sound caused Jessica to flinch and roll her head on the pillow.

Jasper approached the bed slowly. "Jessica? Jessica Stanley?"

She seemed to acknowledge that her name was being called. Her lids parted slowly, revealing her bloodshot eyes. She looked as if she hadn't slept in a couple of days.

"Miss Stanley, I'm Chief Jasper Hale with the Helen Police Department, and this is Detective Demetri Webb with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. How are you feeling?"

She made eye contact with him then it slipped. She closed her eyes. "Oh," she said softly, "Hi."

Jasper cleared his throat. "Miss Stanley, I know this isn't the best time but we need to ask you a few questions about what happened to you last night, early this morning. Do you recall anything right now?"

Jessica swallowed harshly and furrowed her brow. "Someone… shot me."

"Do you remember who it was? Who shot you?"

"It… happened too quickly…" Jessica's voice was fading, sleep was taking her again.

Demetri stepped to her. "Did your friend, Bella, shoot you?"

Jasper looked to him quickly with wide eyes. How could he insinuate something such as that?

"She… picked up the gun… the noise was so loud. It… happened so fast."

Jessica nodded off again, completely surrendering to the powerful medication.

"That's why her story sounded like complete and utter bullshit," Demetri said quietly but aggravated. "She's trying to cover up shooting her friend."

Jasper shook his head. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"That girl is trying to cover up something she did with a real incident that has been going on for months! Don't you see that?"

"I'm not ignoring it. I'm simply saying don't jump to conclusions. We don't know what happened."

"You are being foolish!"

"I'm not the one being foolish," Jasper retorted, offended. "If I had known that Miss Stanley had been medicated we wouldn't have come here, but the truth is that she was, and clearly still is. Her head isn't on straight. We'll have to question her when she's feeling better. When she no longer needs the medication." Jasper paused, thinking over Bella's story.

"She said that she shot the gun while inside the house. We'll get the directions and we can go question the owners."

"If she even 'remembers' where this place is," Demetri said.

"If she doesn't then we'll find the campsite. She should, at least, remember where that is. The evidence we will find will tell the truth."

**|...:...|**

When they arrived back at the police station, Bella's father was sitting with her in the small room but was asked to leave.

He exited the room and turned to Chief Hale and Detective Demetri.

"I'm Chief Jasper Hale, and this is Detective Demetri Webb from the GBI."

"Charlie Swan," he said. "I'm the police chief at Kennesaw PD. Can you tell me what's going on?" He placed his hands on his hips after releasing a worried breath. For the first time in his life, he was speechless; speechless for his own daughter. His tired eyes couldn't process what he had seen in there. She didn't speak much but he was still trying to make sense of it all. What could have happened to her?

"We're unsure as of right now, sir. We're still trying to find all the answers, ourselves," Jasper said.

"She needs a doctor," Charlie said. "I mean, she's cut up, and bruised, caked with mud! I've never seen anything like that. Not even when she was a little girl."

"She refused medical treatment when the paramedics arrived this morning to take Miss Stanley to the hospital."

"What happened to Jessica?"

"She was shot in the right shoulder. She's recovering, she'll be okay," Demetri answered, making quick work of it.

"I—I don't understand," Charlie said.

"Nothing is set in stone," Chief Hale offered, trying to calm the man in front of him. "But we're going to hold your daughter here for the time being. You're more than welcome to sit here, and wait with her."

The lines on Charlie's face suggested that he was bewildered and distraught with confusion, but Jasper knew that nothing more could be done for the time being. The Old Chief would understand procedure, even if it was his daughter.

They excused themselves and entered into the room once again, taking a seat in front of Bella. She leaned on her folded arms in her lap that were pressed against her stomach, swaying gently back and forth.

"Miss Swan?"

She didn't respond.

"Miss Swan?"

She blinked several times then met Jasper's inquisitive gaze.

"You said earlier that you were at a house?"

She nodded.

He folded his hands on the table. "Do you have an address?"

She shook her head, _No_.

"Do you remember how to get there?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"We're going to need you to tell us. Could you do that?"

"Yes."

She told them everything they wanted to know, and more. She recalled how many stories the manor had, and described the color of the brick. But most importantly, "You'll see a wall," she said as tears welled on her bottom lid at mention of her outdoor prison. "A big, brick wall, and the house sits back off the road a ways. But you'll know you're there when you see the wall."

Jasper wrote it down on his notepad and thanked her. "We're going to keep you here for a while. When we get back we'll decide on what to do from there."

She gave a final, silent nod but he wasn't sure that she really comprehended what he had said.

Just as he was rising from his chair she spoke again. "How is Jessica?"

Jasper stopped mid-bend at her question but finished straightening after the momentary pause. "She's fine. She's gonna be just fine."

**|...:...|**

As Demetri drove over the windy roads, Jasper read the directions. The sudden maneuvers and the leathery scent made him sick to his stomach. This country-side was thick, and less-populated; the lining of the trees never lit-up, even when they reached their destination.

The hidden-drive seemed to appear out of nowhere, causing Demetri to slam on his brakes; the patrol car behind him nearly rear-ending his shiny, black SUV.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jasper breathed as he braced himself against the dash and the door. He felt his heart accelerating as the car nearly stopped in the middle of the street.

"Is this it?" Demetri asked as he rotated the wheel. The car jerked onto the gravel, bouncing the frame roughly.

"I don't know. We'll find out," Jasper responded as he ducked his head under the windshield. A canopy of trees hovered above them; the trunks were walled against the drive that seemed never-ending, as if the road led nowhere.

"I… don't know… if this is it," Demetri said. Nervousness paced his voice.

"Just… keep going," Jasper responded as he squinted harder into the trees. An odd shape took form against the vertical view; a quick flash of something indistinguishable. "I think I see something ahead."

"I don't see anything."

As the car rounded the narrow passage-way the trees began to thin as if layers being peeled away to unveil a bright, shining light ahead of them.

Two bricked walls on either side of the drive greeted them as they came out of the trees and into the clearing.

The manor was as Bella said it would be. Darkened windows were strung in the bricks, a single tower reached to the sky, and there was the wall she spoke so anxiously about.

Demetri pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of the house, the patrol car behind him followed.

"Goddamn," Demetri muttered in disbelief.

Jasper exited the car and stepped up to the door of the mansion. It was like any other door he had ever seen, but dread lit his stomach on fire and caused him to shy away for a moment before picking up the lion-head door knocker and sending echoes of banging into the house.

The scent of freshly burned wood, smoke and sweetness, filled the air and only increased when he stepped closer to the house to peer into the blank window next to the entry, looking for any movement or signs of life.

"It looks abandoned," Jasper said. "There's stuff inside, but it's completely covered in dust and cobwebs."

Demetri picked up the door knocker and slammed it into the door.

They were quiet but no rustling sounded from inside the house, and no one came to greet them.

"I'm going to go around back," Jasper said then stepped away from the other two. "Keep trying this door."

Demetri pounded with his fist as Jasper walked around the large circumference of the structure.

He squinted in confusion when he rounded corner. The two structures – manor and wall – met cleanly. There was no entrance to the back, no break in the solid mass. It was only brick and sky. He didn't quite understand the purpose of this, or why the wall would be so high.

And it was brief that he thought maybe Miss Swan was telling the truth. She had said the wall was a guarantee that she, or anyone else, could never escape from the back yard.

The longer he stood at that wall, the longer his mind began to wrap around the idea that this was the home of a murderer. It may not be a vampire, because that notion was ridiculous, but something sinister and inhumane resided inside the walls.

However, the theory didn't fit the appearance; the outside appeared well manicured. The grass was low-cut and a most brilliant shade of green, flowers were growing in patches with fresh pine straw between them, and the fragrance of honeysuckles were in the air, growing not far from where he stood. The property, itself, was lovely.

He anchored the sole of his boot into the soft grass and turned, chewing on the inside of his cheek in contemplation. To anyone else the outer beauty of such a marvelous place would fool them into thinking that whomever lived here was of good taste, perhaps snobbish, but normal. Some people wouldn't think secondly of the massive obstruction blocking their view to more of the property.

Because some people are easily fooled.

But Jasper knew, quite well, that appearances could be deceiving.

"There's no one home," Officer Rowley said from the front doorstep as Jasper appeared back in sight.

"This place is dead," Demetri added.

"Watch out," Jasper said, backing them away and grabbed the door handle to twist it.

It was locked. It didn't surprise him. He pulled the gun from the holster and aimed where the door and frame met. He squeezed the trigger. The lock that held the two together exploded. The door swung open forcefully.

"You can't do that!" Demetri exclaimed.

"If it's abandoned then what does it matter?" Jasper grinned wryly then stepped inside the house slowly, still holding his gun, ready for anything that would come out at them. The smoky odor that disturbed him outside was stronger in here, upsetting the musky, old smell that the manor took on underneath. Even the atmosphere seemed gray. It reminded him of the house fires he would be called to as an officer, when the smoke would linger just below the ceiling of the house - if there was a house left standing.

"Hello?" he hollered into the large halls. "Anybody home? This is Chief Hale and Officer Rowley with the Helen Police Department, and Detective Demetri Webb from the GBI."

His boots crunched over the shards of wood. "We're not here to hurt you," he continued. "We just want to ask you a few questions… anybody home?"

Only his echo answered him.

"I'm going to head to the back. You two search the rooms. See if you can find anything. Holler if you do," Jasper said.

"Right," Demetri said in an awestruck voice as his eyes ascended up the walls, admiring the architecture and various things of interest.

The house did appear to be abandoned. Dirt and dust were on every surface, nearly making the items gray and monotone. Not one thing stood out from the other in color except for the paintings strewn across the expanse of the walls, but even they were alike. A deep, heavy red was the highlight of every picture, the only common ingredient that tied all of them together.

As he glanced down the hall, the color bounded from the paintings and for a moment he thought of it as blood running through a dusty vein.

A familiar scent hit his nostrils then and stung his entire body with recognition, a memory. A fresh, more vivid memory. Something he'd smelled before. Reflections of daylight lit the way as his pace picked up. He was near the back of the house when the scent became heavier, more abrupt, drowning out the charred until it was prominent and undeniable. He could only describe it as abandoned life, rot, and decay.

Death.

He turned at a dead end, following the light and saw a wall of bright windows.

The white, shining room nearly blinded him as he entered. He nearly gagged at the odor that radiated as he glanced around.

His breath caught in his chest. He coughed.

Drops of red littered the floor around the furniture.

The couch cushions were slathered in the color.

Blood.

But whose?

Just as he reached for his cell phone to call for additional back-up, a gunshot exploded around the halls.

"Detective? Officer Rowley?" he yelled as loud as he could then raced out of the blood-soaked room.

His steps led him back to the front, and then down halls he had not yet seen. He held his gun in front of him as he peaked into each of the rooms he encountered. The smell began to change again.

"Detective?" he called as he slowed. "Where are you? Officer Rowley?"

Inside a room to his left, through a cracked door, a shadow shifted on a wall.

Jasper pointed his gun to the door and slowly pushed it open. The destroyed room was littered with books, the old chairs were pushed oddly around the bookcases, and glass jars on the shelves gleamed. Confusion filled his body, then, at the sight before him, horror washed it all away.

A single man stood across the space, his hands clutching the curtains as he pulled them together, filtering the only light that came into the room. Demetri and Officer Rowley were strewn out on the floor; one against the left bookcase, the other in the middle. Another body, one that he didn't recognize, was on the couch, only it wasn't as quiet. It convulsed.

"Forgive me," the man said, "my eye is sensitive to the bright light."

Jasper aimed his weapon at the back of the man. "What did you do to these men?"

"It's what they did to themselves."

He aimed the gun more pointedly and the words, _what did you do?_, escaped from between his bared teeth.

"The Detective came in, became curious and decided to open the curtains for a bit more light. Like I said, my eye is sensitive, so I fixed the problem. I may have startled him." The man's voice was calm, cryptic, and strangely snake-like.

"Don't worry," he continued, "they're not dead, merely unconscious."

"And what about him?" Jasper said as his eyes fell on the shaking man on the couch.

"Oh, him?" The man knew who he was talking about. "You don't need to worry about him." He dropped his hands from the curtains and turned to Jasper.

His right-eye seemed to glow in the surrounding darkness, taking in the little light that was available and emitting it back into the void. His other eye was shut off to the world by a patch that strapped around his head.

Somewhere in the room, an old ticking clock counted the seconds that passed between the two men.

There was something unusual about this one-eyed man, a strange vibe that he expelled, telling Jasper he was in danger.

"You are in no danger," the man said, as if confirming. "I do not wish to kill you. In fact, it would be counter-productive since you have information that I need."

A strange scream was hurled from the man on the couch as his massive body twitched and convulsed violently. His motions were that of possession, as if a demon had embodied him and moved his limbs unnaturally.

It didn't bother this one-eyed thing in front of him the way it did Jasper. Why had he just thought of this man as a thing? And what was his name?

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing."

"The hell there is! He needs medical treatment!"

The thing chuckled. "Everything that can be done is being done… I assure you sir that if you step towards him, I will not spare your life after I have gotten what I want!" He pointed a finger at him. His voice was loud and full of warning.

Jasper stepped back one step to where he was before he had moved. His motion was so slight, how could he have known what he was doing?

"You will not touch him!" he said again then bent down slightly over the back of the couch and touched the head of the sick man. "He is my most prized possession," he whispered softly. "My protege."

He was mad!

Daft!

Jasper wanted to reason with him since he was clearly out of his mind, and not thinking straight. "Sir, he needs medical attention. Let me call someone and we can have an ambulance out here in ten minutes."

He continued, as if he had not heard what Jasper had said, or completely ignoring it all-together. "He will be so sensitive to the light, more-so than me. But that is my own fault. He needs to stay in the dark until the change is complete. It will take no more than a few days. Do you understand?"

Jasper's chest heaved with panic. He didn't understand, why was he telling him this? Was he even real?

"After all," the man said and straightened up to look at Jasper with his single, glowing eye. "It's a long way to hell and back, and the trip is already painful enough."

_Get out!_ The voice inside his head screamed, his every instinct told him to run!

The sound of whipping wind followed by the slam of the door sounded before he could turn on his heel to escape.

The thing was there! He pressed his back into the closed door, blocking his only exit.

"You have something that I want," it said, glaring.

"I don't have anything that you want!" Jasper protested, and pushed his gun towards him again. He wanted to shoot him. There was no other way out. He wasn't Chief Hale anymore! In that moment he was simply Jasper. The law didn't mean anything. Life did. Survival did.

His Glock was knocked from his grasp. A loud snap crippled him in pain as he fell onto the books he had been trying to avoid. It was there! It held onto his broken wrist like a puppet master controlling a new toy.

"I've been shot at enough for a day," the thing said said.

Jasper screamed out as his hand was pulled on. He felt the skin was the only thing keeping it together now, and he desperately hoped it would hold. He managed to choke out, "I don't have anything!"

"Oh, yes, you do. Do you see this?" He lifted the black eye-patch and put it right in Jasper's face. His eye was destroyed, his socket dark and barren, nothing but a gaping, charred hole.

Jasper squeezed his eyes shut, the sight caused his wrist to throb even more and pulse in severe agony.

"Look at it!" he screamed into his face. "Do you see what she did to me? Do you?" His thick, trebled voice disturbed the contents of the room, seeming to vibrate books and rattle bones. His teeth gleamed as his lips pulled away from each other as he snarled.

Jasper looked into the monstrosity of flesh and bone where his eyeball used to reside. "That bitch took my eye! She destroyed it!" he seethed. "So I'm going to take her head."

But he didn't understand. He didn't understand anything but the pain as his shattered bones ground together. They were squeezed once again. He cried out.

"You do know what I'm talking about. She was here, and so were her friends. Everything she told you was the truth… Bella Swan."

The mention of her name swirled the recent events in his head. He thought of Miss Swan and where she was, where she would be. He saw her sitting in that room with her father, but the images quickly fleeted as his wrist was flung to the floor. Instinctively, he reached for it, to cradle it against his body but weight was applied to it. It cracked under a black shoe as the thing leaned down to the Chief, who was now sprawled across the floor next to Demetri.

"Thank you," he said and adjusted his eye-patch, then rested his elbows upon his bended knees. "We're going to be holed up in here for a few days. I may need your assistance, Chief. And if you don't cooperate, Detective Webb and Officer Rowley over there will die horrible deaths. Slow, agonizing deaths."

Jasper wondered, through the torture, what he meant by horrible, slow, and agonizing, to which the man responded with a grin, "The worst kind you can imagine."

He then dug through Jasper's pockets and pulled out his cell phone, crushing the hard plastic with one grip. "You won't be needing that anymore." He tossed it over his shoulder.

He pulled out the badge and held it up then with a wider smile than before said, "Wear that at all times." He placed it on Jasper's chest.

"Let's see, what else don't you need?" he asked himself. He hummed deeply in his chest as he thought while running a sharp fingernail over the brim of the Chief's ear lobe. Jasper flinched, preparing himself to feel more pain.

"No," he whispered. His cool breath smelled of metal, almost sweet. "I'll let you keep those."

The fingernail continued to grind against the flesh as it made its way to Jasper's lips. A hand encased his cheeks, puckering his lips, and opening his mouth slightly. He huffed and drew in sharp breaths. The pain in his wrist twisted into more agony as the man bore more weight onto it with the thick sole of his shoe. He straddled him, his other foot holding down his other arm now as he sat on his torso.

"But this," he hissed as he draped over him, their lips nearly touching. "It's bad enough I'll have to hear your thoughts much less listen to you speak them." The man slid something thin out of his pocket. A click and metal ringing moved Jasper roughly.

He saw it gleam in the light as he laid there on the library floor. He tried to escape, but the pain and the weight held him in place. There was no escaping. He braced for what would happen, he knew it would hurt, but he didn't know it would be so much. The small blade pierced his tongue and slipped into the flesh easily. A few quick motions – and screams – later, the man pulled the muscle from his mouth and dangled it in front of him.

The house filled with his strange cries. They sounded muffled, then, since they didn't roll off the tip of his tongue. He screamed until it no longer sounded human; until the noises were mere whimpers.

The man licked his fingertips clean of the little bit of blood that had leaked onto him before pulling a book off the table.

"If you know time as well as I do, you won't want to waste it. Here. You might want to catch up on your reading. If I were you, I'd start with this one." He dropped a book onto Jasper's heaving chest. The faded gold-lettering hinting at what was once there.

_Dracula._

"And my name, since you asked earlier, is Edward Cullen, and I am very real."

He left Jasper on the floor to writhe. His noises of pain and disbelief flooded into the halls of the house once he opened the door of his library. A small piece of contentment filled Edward as he shadowed the halls of his manor. The motion to clean up what had been split was underway, but there was unfinished business which needed to be ratified as soon as Emmett had completed his change. Too many people had heard of Miss Swan's tale; a brush with the undead. Some may have thought she was crazy, others may have wanted to believe it. But all that heard of the game would line the walls with blood. He would paint his house red.

After all, she had taken more than his eye.

She had taken the game away from him.

She had taken his pride.

And she would pay.

She would pay with tears and blood. She would still pay with her precious time; the time she loved so much.

He would drink from her last.

He smiled to himself as he rounded the corner, the light from the open front door lingered on every surface. He began to whistle.

Then, something emerged from the back of his mind; words that he had spoken before. They escaped in soft wisps before he could decide not to say them. "The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day. I attended all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff was afflicted."

A sneer stretched across his face, as if he knew what he was saying now and the purpose to which he was saying it. "Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me when she had come out from the death chamber. She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to attend on her."

As he reached the open entrance of his secluded manor his eye squinted against the painful afternoon sunlight. He placed a thin, pale hand on the dark, wooden door and it groaned on its hinges as he began to close it, shutting himself into the dark.

"It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our establishment."

* * *

_"The End"_

. . .

-Songs, just because.-

_Breathe_ by The Prodigy

_Vampire_ by People in Planes

_The Game_ by Disturbed

. . . . .

_The last few lines, Edward was quoting material from Dracula. I'll leave it up to you for interpretation._

_Thank you for reading!_

_=)_


	9. outtake: Felix Moore, MD

**Wow. I've finally gotten around to posting this. Since we first met Felix at the very end of chapter one, I've always wanted to share how he and Edward meet.**

**This is, of course, horror. Same warnings from LEL apply. Extra thanks to Livie79 and Halawia for pre-reading last minute! Y'all rock!**

* * *

**outtake 1.  
Felix**** Moore, M.D.**

"Is it always like this?" he asked the plump, older woman as she slid his coffee over the counter. Black. No cream. A spoonful of sugar. Just the way he liked it.

"June and July are our busiest months. You came at a good time." She smiled, bearing her perfectly straight, but discolored, teeth.

Felix nodded and raised his cup in thanks. "See you tomorrow morning." He turned to face the line of people pegged all the way out the door, and he, now, understood why Hofer's Bakery wasn't to be missed.

After filing past the tourists lined up to order their pastry and coffee, he found a seat on the deck of the old house so he could settle in to read the AJC, drink his coffee and eat the delicious danish. And even though he wished it were quieter, like he expected Helen to be, he enjoyed the hum of the crowd through the door, the clank of forks hitting plates, the whoosh of passing cars on Main Street and the warm, morning breeze whipping through the obstacles around him.

It was much different from the city, just what he needed for a weekend. He laid his leg across his knee, unfolded the paper and sipped his coffee loudly, spreading the sharp liquid across his tongue. A shadow moved over the porch, and footsteps, followed by the planting of a cane echoed through the wood, but he paid no further attention to the approach. It became background noise.

"Beautiful morning," a man said, resting his black and silver cane against the arm of the chair and folding his leg over his knee, mirroring Felix.

Felix allowed the paper to lax, and the man came into view over the edge. Very dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the world under the brim of his black homburg hat, but his deviant mouth - pink lips pushing dimples into pale skin - escaped the shadow and seemed to glow in the morning sun.

He eyed the man's black suit, curious why such a young man would dress so formally. "Yes it is," Felix muttered with forced disinterest. From what he saw he was quite attractive, but he didn't wish to start a conversation with someone at the moment.

"You're from the city," he declared with surety.

"Yes." Felix straightened his paper.

"You're here for pleasure."

Felix nodded. "You?"

"Business and pleasure," he said, holding the grin and his posture with great stillness.

Felix nodded once more and his eyes tripped over the front columns of the Sunday edition. He took another sip of his coffee then a bite of his danish.

"So." The volume of his voice startled Felix. He muttered an obscenity then gave him a stern look over the paper, the jolted nerves still twitched under his skin. The man no longer sat a table away, he had silently moved next to Felix, inches away. "How long are you in town for?"

He released a sigh. "I arrived Thursday and I leave tomorrow morning."

"Back to the grid. What is your position in Atlanta?"

_Position? What did he mean? Why is he so curious?_

And as if reading his mind, he clarified, "What do you do? Forgive me for being nosy. I find it interesting that people would come here, of all places, to 'get away'."

_Oh._ "It's alright. I'm a psychiatrist specializing in addiction. I work in several half-way houses, helping people cope with withdrawal and long-term treatment."

The young man leaned forward and flicked the brim of his hat up with his index finger. The cane pushed into the boards below as it bore his weight. "You'd get a kick out of me, Doc."

"Is that so? You're an addict."

"You could say that."

"I am saying that. Are you saying that?"

The young man's lips stretched, revealing his white teeth. It was an unnerving smile, causing Felix to squirm in his seat. "I like you, Doctor." He rose, inching around the tables and chairs to the exit. "You have a fire. Perhaps I'll see you around."

He disappeared down the stairs, happily planting the cane. His stride was perfectly balanced, showing no sign of actually needing it. Felix determined it was a mere accessory. He watched the young man stroll down the sidewalk for a moment then turned back to his paper and breakfast, not giving him another thought.

**\\\\/\\\\/**

An explosion crackled through the air, and the bright light illuminated the smoke billowing into the atmosphere. Chimes of conversation filtered between each boom and pop, and Felix found himself watching the people around him more than the fireworks overhead. He watched their faces light up in various colors of red, orange, green and purple.

He studied their expressions, their marvel at such a simple thing that, no doubt, used to scare the daylights out of them when they were kids.

Then there were the kids; most of them held their palms tightly over their ears, their little faces buried into their mothers' stomachs.

Felix grinned then took a sip of his Jack and Coke.

The server, a pretty, young thing with blond hair and a fit body, stacked plates a few tables away, clearing off the space for another group so they could enjoy the patio.

"Excuse me!" Felix shouted over the noise, grabbing the server's attention.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

Felix grinned, the alcohol bruising his ability to control his smile._ Pretty, young thing._ "Can I get another Jack and Coke, please?"

"Sure thing," the server said. He, too, returned a damaging smile before stepping inside the small restaurant.

Felix could only watch him walk away, knowing that's all he'd ever do is watch.

"Incredible view isn't it?" It sounded as though the voice questioned him.

He turned back to the fireworks, stunned to see the familiar face.

The stranger from earlier this morning was there, standing at one of the two empty chairs at Felix's table, his hands resting upon the back. The hat was gone, as well as the sunglasses and Felix was shocked to find that he was younger-looking now. His burgundy hair lit up with the night lights, and his eyes were as black as coals.

"You again," Felix said, not knowing whether to groan in annoyance or admire the fine specimen.

The stranger smiled, once more setting the doctor to the edge of his seat. "You are displeased to see me?"

No. "Shocked, actually. I'd imagine it's rare to see a stranger twice in a crowded place like this, let alone the same day."

"The odds were against our favor, yet here we are." He stepped around and propped himself into the chair. "What are you drinking? Let me buy you your next round to celebrate this rare occasion."

The stranger slid his black jacket off his arms, the muscles flexing under the white, long-sleeved button-up shirt as he dropped it over the back of his chair.

"No, no." Felix straightened up in his seat. He had to clear the warm alcohol cloud which began to settle over his mind. "No, thank you. I'm good with this one. In fact, I was about to lea—"

"One Jack and Coke." The waiter set the amber tumbler in front of Felix. "Anything else I can get for you right now?"

The stranger's grin pushed further against his cheeks. There was a smugness about him, a confidence that most men could only dream of. Felix knew he was attractive, but wasn't without his physical flaws. Sometimes he thought the bridge of his nose was too big, or the widow's peak meant he would bald soon. Although he was in good health. He never missed his days at the gym, and it showed.

This stranger had nothing on him when it came to body type. He wasn't without his share of muscles, he was more slender, and the more he grinned, the more Felix found himself entranced by him.

"Go ahead and bring him two more," the man said.

"I actually can't bring him two more since the one he's drinking isn't empty yet, unless one is for you." the waiter said.

"One's for me," the man answered.

"Alright, I just need to see some I.D.."

There was a silence as he leaned forward in his chair, locking eyes with the young blond. "I assure you," the stranger said, voice deeper, eyes fixated, "I'm old enough."

Felix was surprised he could hear the exchange through the fireworks. The waiter's face gradually fell and he nodded. "Here, take this," the stranger said just as the boy began to turn away from the table. He pulled a fifty dollar bill from his wallet.

The waiter nodded once, eyes trained elsewhere, and took the fifty before sauntering away like he had just woken from a long dream.

"That was... weird," Felix said, watching the kid as he disappeared into the restaurant. The confident stranger squeezed his eyes shut and prodded at them using his index finger and thumb. "Are you alright?"

His black eyes opened and met his. Light surrounded them as the firework finale popped through the sky. Green. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Gold. They stained everything around him except the color of his eyes. They remained ebony, as though any light trying to touch them, brighten them, was swallowed into darkness. Felix found himself strangely drawn to them, stilling himself so he could stare, but the man turned away from the bright flashes.

Oohs and aahs formed around them when the night sky stilled, the fireworks leaving their trail of smoke behind. "Some spectacle," Felix said, taking a swig of his drink.

"I'm very convinced you see one firework show, you've seen them all," the man responded, watching the crowd begin to pick up their blankets and gather their friends. "Even the people watching are the same. Same reactions."

"It's fun watching the children react to it though."

"I don't pay attention to the children as much. Some people tend to find that sort-of thing odd."

The retort amused Felix and he chuckled, although he wasn't sure why. "True," he said.

Just then, the waiter returned, setting down the drinks and making himself scarce before saying anything. The stranger eyed him the entire time before he turned his attention back to the dispersing people loading into their cars or walking back to their cabins. He watched them intently, as if he were studying. Felix noted this, and as soon as he did the man turned back to him and said, "So, you return tomorrow? Did you enjoy your vacation?"

"It wasn't bad. It was nice to get away for a few days."

"Do anything interesting besides watch T.V. and stuff your face?"

Felix grinned. His stomach was becoming increasingly warmer from the alcohol. What had he done to enjoy himself besides eat the local food, drink and watch T.V.? "Hiked a hell-of-a long way to a waterfall. I was sort-of disappointed when I got down there, though. I should've just stayed at the observation deck."

"I know the one you're talking about. It's much better from farther away, I agree. Much more impressive."

"Yeah." One, last swig finished off the Jack and Coke. By then, he was so used to the taste that his face didn't even curl. "I haven't done much of anything else."

"And you leave tomorrow. What a shame."

"Well, at least I got out of the city for a few days. It's nice here."

The man sat forward eloquently, his knee still folded over the other. Felix found him oddly enchanting, although a little strange. The way he caught his gaze, his eyebrow raised and smooth lips parted as he spoke made his breath stint. "But that's not enough is it?" he asked.

There was a sexual prowess in his question and it made Felix grin, his stomach and arms burning with alcohol, feeling lighter and lighter by the moment. "I had hoped to do more," he admitted.

"Then why don't we?"

"We?" This made Felix chuckle. "I don't even know your name."

"It's Edward."

"Well, Edward, what did you have in mind? What's there to do around here, anyway?"

"Not much of anything, I'm afraid. It does get rather boring."

"I was under the assumption that you were from out of town."

"I live right outside town." Edward's grin widened a little more. "So, why don't we see what kind of trouble we can get into? It'll be fun. I promise."

Felix glanced at his watch. Ten-thirty. "I don't know. I have to be up at eight in the morning and I need at least six hours of sleep to be fully-functional."

"So? You have two hours, Cinderella."

Felix weighed the options. He could go back to his cabin nestled up one of the many, small mountains. He would set his alarm then down a few more drinks before passing out. This dinner would be the end of his trip.

Or, he could give his last two hours to Edward, a young, alluring creature that he wouldn't mind knowing a little more. He seemed interested, and why wouldn't he be? Felix had money. He was fit, intelligent and wasn't without his good looks. Any man would be lucky to have his company. What did he have to lose? It was only a couple of hours.

"What can we do in two hours?" Felix asked.

"I can think of a few things. Pay your bill then meet me out front. We'll take my car." Edward rose and exited through a wooden gate which blended with the rest of the railing. Felix found his waiter, paid for his bill and tipped him twenty dollars then made his way toward the front, careful of his footing. He was more tipsy than he recalled sitting down.

Edward stood at the bottom of the porch in front of the restaurant, one foot propped on the first step. One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other hanging by his side. He seemed confident, relaxed. Out of all things, this intimidated Felix, yet only made him want this man more. His hair was darker without the lights glinting off his strands, his face less pale.

Without a word, he led Felix to a new, black Mercedes coupe with a Fulton County tag. "I thought you said you're local." Felix pointed to the tag.

"I did say that." The doors unlocked with a pop. "Get in."

The dark leather seat was too small for Felix's large frame. He could barely lean back into the deep contours without wanting to lean forward again. Even with the lack of comfort, he remarked, "Nice car."

In fact, it was too nice for someone as young as Edward. He began to wonder how long he'd had experience driving such a machine, but like a seasoned, pro racer, with a touch of a button, Edward sent the car roaring. The dash lit up the darkened interior to glowing red. When they finally broke away from the crowd of people, the car screamed, as though it couldn't wait to go faster. Felix grabbed the 'oh-shit' bar above his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "What did you say you do again?"

They stopped at a stop light, and Edward looked to him. "I'm an investor."

"Young to be an investor, aren't you?"

"You're never too young for anything."

People crossed the street in front of them in hoards. Some held hands with each other. Some had food and drink, but they all wore a smile. Felix realized, then, that he wasn't smiling. In fact, he felt more nervous now than he had before he got into the car.

Edward's proximity was too close, with nothing separating them except the small, center console. Before there was a table and a few chairs, always space between their bodies, always objects blocking them from one another. In the new openness, it was different.

Suddenly there was music seeping from the speakers. An opera piece sung by a woman in what Felix believe to be Italian. The light turned green and they were off once more, rushing through the streets of the quaint town filled to the brim with tourists. Edward was going too fast for the conditions. He could injure someone, or them, Felix thought.

Another red light.

Edward moved his hand from the stick shift toward Felix. It startled him, but he looked to Edward when his fingers ended up on his thigh. His black eyes glinted from the interior lights, his amused grin showing off his teeth. They were different than before, sharper. Felix blinked several times, taken aback by the placement of Edward's hand, and the wild effects of the alcohol.

"Shh. Relax," he said, moving his hand to the inside of Felix's thigh. "You don't have to be tense, yet."

"What are you doing?" His voice wavered, not sure if he should be enthralled or frightened.

"Having fun, Doc. As promised."

His hand was on the stick shift again, his eyes on the pedestrians. He revved the engine, the loud growl catching the attention of the people passing in front of them. The car crept forward. The engine revved again, louder this time. The faces of disgust turned to worry and they began to hurry in front of the car.

They inched further. Another growl. Louder, more intense.

Felix could feel the car vibrate under him, could feel the power of the machine shake his veins.

The light still red, and the pedestrians, not trusting the driver of the car to not run over them, stopped, the coupe rocketed once more. Edward laughed, not even glancing in the rear-view or side mirrors in concern. He simply didn't care.

Soon, there was nothing except the crimson illumination from the dashboard, the opera music, the road before them and the dark, surrounding forest.

They were off the road, bumping down an uneven drive until a massive house appeared from behind a tall brick wall. A dark, single tower stood against the moonlight, angling into the lines of a mansion. A single window was alive with a steady glow.

Edward pulled around the circular drive, then into the large garage. Several more cars greeted Felix as he pulled himself from the seat and into the oily air. All of them were newer models. All black. One SUV stood tall at the end of the garage.

"Come this way," Edward said, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Felix followed Edward into the house and was surprised when he found the interior of the house wasn't what he thought it would be. He expected to see modern fixtures, gleaming chrome surfaces and eclectic furniture. Instead, he got old world: dark wood paneling, antique furniture,dusty fixtures and red walls adorned by hundreds of paintings, some of the likes he'd never seen before.

"Do you live here by yourself?" he asked, following Edward as he lit up the house one switch at a time.

"No. My butler is currently engaged in other activities. So he won't be around tonight."

"It's just the two of you then?"

They settled in the kitchen, the only room which seemed to be styled. The black marble counters and cherry cabinets gathered the soft, dim glow of the recessed lighting which Edward adjusted on the wall. "For now, it's just the two of us." He stopped behind the island as Felix stood with his hands resting on the back of the bar chairs. He was thankful for the space between them. "Would you care for a drink? Another Jack and Coke, perhaps?"

"I don't want to impose."

"Please, you're not. Have a drink."

"Alright, but only if you will."

Edward's mouth ticked at one corner. "Fine. I'll have a drink. Jack and Coke for you?"

"That'd be fine." Although he really didn't think he needed another drink. The effects from the last two had began to make him dizzy, but nevertheless he accepted the tumbler from his host when he stood in front of him, extending it with his pale, bony fingers. He cleared his throat, once again affected by the proximity. "Thank you."

Edward allowed him to take a few sips before he pushed Felix's black hair away from his face with a stroke of his fingernail against his forehead. "Money, alcohol and beauty," he said. The same fingernail ventured down his cheek, the side of his throat and to the thin dress shirt hugging his muscular chest. "Is that your addiction?"

Felix couldn't help but smile at him, wondering the game he was playing. While he was used to his boyfriends wanting to touch him, he couldn't help but feel this time was different. Edward's touch was menacing, if not a dangerous thing, but his stomach lit with the burn of alcohol and desire.

He wanted to brush his lips against Edward's to feel if they were as smooth as they looked. "Right now? You are." He felt foolish for saying what he felt. He looked into his eyes then, noticing there was no limit to the black, as though his pupils swallowed the irises. His skin, while not thin, was lined with blue veins across his forehead and under his eyes when he looked close enough. How long had it been since he slept?

Felix turned his head to the side. "What's wrong with your face?"

"Do you find me unattractive?"

But, it was a ridiculous question. Even if Felix had answered yes, Edward wouldn't have believed him. He was the type of man who knew how he affected people, and used it to his advantage. Despite being slightly frightening, he held a charm about his person, an air of sophistication; when paired with his youthful beauty, he was quite attractive, indeed.

"No, of course not."

Edward's cool fingers were against Felix's other cheek. "But you're frightened."

He was indeed. "No."

"Perhaps if you knew me better you would be."

"You're a dangerous man then?"

"Very, but you already know that. Regardless, you can't keep your eyes off something of mine, and I'm curious what you think will transpire tonight."

"Well," Felix started then finished off the rest of his drink with a swift tilt of the tumbler. "I would like to find out more about you. You mentioned this morning that I would get a kick out of you. I'm interested to know how you think so. Cocaine? Alcohol? Meth?"

"I'm a pack-rat, actually. Can't seem to let the past go."

"That doesn't seem so bad. A lot of people have that problem."

"A lot of people don't collect the things I do." He smirked.

"Go on," he nearly whispered, intrigued. "What do you collect?"

His grin grew, a playfulness about his face now, that didn't hint at a boyish charm. Felix couldn't ignore the way his heart began beating quicker the closer Edward was near him, as if preparing him for flight. He couldn't quite wrap his finger around why this was so. He was intimidating, dominant, and perhaps it's the side that came out in the bedroom.

He twitched with an erotic thought, and with that Edward began to back away, where they'd come from moments earlier. He unbuttoned the two buttons on his black blazer, revealing the cream shirt underneath while backing into the dimly lit hall. "Perhaps I should just show you."

Felix grabbed his glass from the counter then followed his captor down the familiar hall to another with barely a glimpse of light illuminating their way. The rap of their shoes on the hardwood re-verbed in whispers. No paintings or art graced the walls as far as Felix could tell. Everything was bare, the scent musty. Anxiety drummed on his heart, causing his pulse to quicken as he watched Edward's dark figure ahead of him.

He stopped, turned and his eyes flashed in the shadow as he found Felix still following close behind him. The sound of a door knob creaked followed by the moan of a door. Edward, seeming to know where he was going, stepped inside the pitch-black room while his guest lingered on the cusp of shadow and pure darkness. He braced himself against the door frame with a palm holding his heavy body up. There was a rush of unevenness, as though the house were lopsided and circling around him.

A lamp brought the room to life, illuminating its secrets contained within. An impressive space with deep wooden walls harboring an antique poster bed in its center. Golden drapes covered the windows, keeping any moonlight from invading the private sanctuary.

"Please, come in," Edward motioned as he took off the first layer of his black suit. He draped it over a chair at the end of the bed.

"Where is this collection of yours?" Felix asked, releasing himself from the door frame so he could enter, having to steady himself before he could take his first step. He could feel a faint smile pull at his lips as a thought passed through his head: he's trying to seduce me.

"It's hidden away."

Edward met him half-way through the room, popping open the top button of his silk-like shirt which appeared like velvet in the dim light behind him.

"It's a private hobby, then?"

He nodded twice. "Very private. One might call it an obsession, a never-ending hunger."

"They have support groups for that," Felix mused, his comments becoming one with the alcohol.

"No need. I have you. What would you do for someone in my situation, Doc?"

Felix stumbled slightly, bumping into Edward. He placed his free hand on his shoulder, holding himself up. There was a charge between their bodies, and their proximity began to affect Felix. There was no denying his attraction, then. "Deny you the very thing you want," he said with a smile.

Edward moaned, and his mouth seemed to swell as he inched closer to Felix's neck. He placed a hard lick against his throat with the flat of his tongue. Felix groaned in response, pushing his erection into him. "Some might say that's dangerous." He licked him again, the heat a ballad of aromas dancing on his tongue. Musk. Spice. Warmth. Savory. He wrapped his arms around the man and began to squeeze. Felix writhed against his unusually tight grasp. "But you're lucky I enjoy games."

He took one last lick before baring his teeth and sinking them into the soft flesh.

Pain bursted through the walls of the alcohol. Felix cried out and tried to move away. A fire began to spread in his neck, and even with all his strength he couldn't break free from Edward. The glass he held fell to the floor and shattered at their feet.

The excruciating, sharp pain dissipated, and with it, his body grew limp. Edward uncoiled and simply held Felix's neck to his mouth, his fingers wide against the man's muscular back, his other hand gripping his hair as he moaned against his skin. His blood was hot, laced with adrenaline and desire. With each pull, he sucked away life.

He didn't wish to consume all of him, yet, so he pulled away, Felix still limp and defenseless in his arms. His eyes were wide, searching. His throat unable to force a scream as he was dragged to the bed and placed there. He shivered, wanting to place a hand over his throat to keep the blood from spilling, but nothing happened. His arms stayed by his side, paralyzed.

Blood, his blood, smeared Edward's lips, his cream shirt collected the excess dripping from his chin. He leaned over him, his knees pressing next to Felix's thighs. "You've got soft so quickly," Edward whispered, brushing a knuckle across Felix's cheek. His jagged, blood-stained teeth bared in a smile. "Don't worry. It won't last long. You'll be back on your knees in no time... begging."

_What has he done to me?_

"I would think it was quite obvious. What does your gut tell you?"

_Did he? No, it's impossible._

"It's possible. I'm what you think I am, what you thought I was a moment ago."

Tears began to form in Felix's eyes. Emotions welled so furiously that his face began to scrunch as he cried.

"You want to say it, don't you? Like the very word will be your salvation."

His breaths were heavy, his cheeks wet with tears. He knew he would die here, painfully and alone.

"Say it!" Edward screamed in his face. His voice was deep and threatening, a perfect match to the corrupt teeth in his mouth. Drops of blood splattered on Felix's cheeks and chin from Edward's lips.

He wanted to scream the word as it rose in his throat like bile. He saw his body cold and blue with death, frozen and drained. Who would look for him? Who would find him? And it was there on his lips as he began to quake with fear, understanding.

"Vampire!" he cried.

The declaration echoed through the halls, as if confirming.

* * *

_Song used for inspiration was:  
__Redemption_ by Zack Hemsey

Finally, I'll be writing a short sequel to LEL. It will be posted separately and will pick up where chapter eight ended. I don't know when I'll be posting this, and you certainly don't have to read it. Blame my husband because after we talked about LEL recently, he inspired me by giving me a few scenes of what could've went down at the end.

It's all his fault.


End file.
